Full text of "Karavan"

See other formats

Cl.No.U^ \

Ac. fio.fS'O^ZZ
This book should be returned on or before the date last stamped
below. An overdue charge of Six nP. will be charged for each day
the book is kept overtime.

Date of release for loan

19y'ftP '95?

KARA VAN

BLACKIE & SON LIMITED

50 Old Bailey, LONDON
17 Stanhope Street, Glasgow

BLACKIE & SON (INDIA) LIMITED
Warwick House, Fort Street, Bombay

BLACKIE 8c SON (CANADA) LIMITED
Toronto

Women^s dress in Mongolia is noteworthy for its soft harmonious
colouring. The heavy ornaments are of silver.

KARAVAN

Travels in Eastern Turkestan

NILS AMBOLT

Translated from the Sice dish by
JOAN BULMAN, M.A.

BLACKIE & SON LIMITED
LONDON AND GLASGOW

First published in English 1939

Printed in Great BrsUdn by Blaekie & Son, Ltd., Glasgow

FOREWORD

I HAD spent some months in the summer of 1928 in
Stockholm, arranging business matters connected with
my big expedition and selecting its members, and was to
return on 8th August to my headquarters in Urumtsi.

Thanks to the extreme generosity of the Swedish Govern-
ment and the kindness of our Chinese friends, we had been
able to increase the scientific staff of the expedition consider-
ably. One of our three new members was the promising
young astronomer and geodesist. Dr. Nils Ambolt, of Lund,
Sweden. His work had been highly praised by Professor C.
Charlier, of Lund, and Professor W. Carlheim-GyllenskiSld,
of the Academy of Science, Stockholm, and he had spent a
further eight months studying at the Geodatisches Institut,
Potsdam, under Professor Kohlschiitter, one of the most
prominent geodesists of our time, who also spoke most highly
of him.

I returned to the field accompanied by Dr. Ambolt. Our
ways soon parted, however, for I was called elsewhere to other
duties. Ambolt was seriously ill for some time. On his re-
covery, he set off on his five-year expedition through Central
Asia. He worked particularly happily with our chief geolo-
gist, Dr. Norin, in a collaboration that proved profitable to
them both. The field of their activity was indeed wide. It
included not only those parts of Sinkiang which have been
known from earliest times under the names of Dzungaria and
East Turkestan, but also completely unknown parts of nor-
thern Tibet. Towards the end they worked also in western
Tibet and Ladakh.

Dr. Ambolt in the course of his zigzag journeyings col-
lected the most comprehensive and valuable astronomic,
geodetic, and meteorological observations. He also carried
out triangulations, altitude measurements, and cartographical
observations in the districts he visited. His first work. Latitude

FOREWORD

and Longitude "Determinations^ was published a short time ago.
These astronomical determinations of position have enabled
the map of Central Asia to be drawn with a certainty hitherto
impossible. To me, whose first journeys were made as a
pioneer and pathfinder, it is a very great pleasure to be able
to afford young Swedish explorers opportunities of filling in,
by means of thorough and strictly scientific research, the gaps
which I myself was forced to leave.

Dr. Nils Ambolt possesses the happy faculty of relating
his personal adventures and experiences in an interesting and
highly readable form. His book Karavan enjoyed an unusual
success in Sweden, and was taken up with enthusiasm both
by the public and the press.

It is a great pleasure to me to know that Ambolt’s book
is now to appear in English. No country in the world has
shown a greater interest in Sinkiang, particularly East
Turkestan, than Great Britain, both in the past and at the
present day. Some of the roads to India run through this
great province, and Englishmen from Shaw, Forsyth, Bellew,
Biddulf, Gordon, Carey, Dalgleish, and Sir Francis Young-
husband to Sir Aurel Stein and Peter Fleming have done
great service to geographical exploration, science, and politics
in these inaccessible parts.

At the present time, and possibly for many years to come,
travel in Sinkiang will not be easy. The war now in progress
in China places almost insuperable difficulties in the way of
fresh enterprises, and at this moment it is impossible to fore-
see who will gain the mastery of these huge territories. Russia
is very powerful there, and every friend of China hopes that,
when the war is over, the province of Sinkiang will be more
firmly linked than ever before with the greatest republic in
the world. Any new contribution to our knowledge of Chinese
Turkestan should therefore be warmly welcomed. As Ambolt
held a place of honour on my staff on the big expedition of
1927—35, it would be a matter of great satisfaction to me if
the same friendly interest that has always been accorded me
could be extended also to my young astronomer and his book.

SVEN HEDIN.

Stockholm, December, 1938.

PREFACE

“ Touth is not an age, it is a quality ”

At the time I write these lines, Sven Hedin is seventy-
three years old; or perhaps it would be more correct to say
that he is seventy-three years young. He still possesses unim-
paired his wonderful power of inspiring others and filling them
with enthusiasm, and this applies most of all to that youth
which he loves and on which he has always lavished his rich
optimism.

I was privileged to take part in his big scientific expedition
of 1928—33 to the heart of Asia. Karavan is founded on these
years of camping life. The first chapter of the book, “ Chinese
Turkestan — the Land of Contrasts ”, is an account of an ima-
ginary journey, included by way of introduction to the land
and its people. The rest of the book deals with the expedition
itself.

During these years my joys were doubled and my troubles
shared by many good friends of various nationalities. To all
these I would express my sincerest thanks. May this book
prove that those five years in the East were years of great
happiness — not merely as seen in the delusive light of memory,
but as they were lived in tent and yurt, with theodolite and
pendulum, in distant lands where one’s work was the finest
sport.

NILS AMBOLT.

ljjiXD,July, 1938.

CONTENTS

Chap.

Chinese Turkestan — the Land of Contrasts

Page

II.

Kuruk-tagh — the “ Dry Hills ” -

III.

A Standing Long-jump -

IV.

Divine Service _ _ -

Diplomacy and Lop Nor -

VI.

An Evening at Kara-koshun

VII.

The Hurricane at Bejan-tura

VIII.

A Severe Temptation

IX.

Spring Idyll. Back in Urumtsi -

A Chinese Dinner - - -

XI.

Bogdo Ula— the Hill of God -

XII.

Difficulties - - - -

XIII.

In the Field Again - - -

XIV.

The Casket of the Dalai Lama -

XV.

The Burgomaster’s Visit -

XVI.

Through the Desert to Khotan -

XVII.

Karanghu-tagh — the Dark Hills

XVIII.

Khotan — the Town of Rugs

109

XIX.

XX.

To Yarkand and the Swedish Missionaries -

Vorotnikoff — Meteorologist and Psycholo-
gist

117

121

XXL

Over the Kara-koram Pass — Via Dolorosa

127

CONTENTS

Chap. Page

XXII. The Advantages of Jiu-Jitsu - - -131

XXIII. Goal of our Ambitions - - - - 138

XXIV. A Change of Course — Difficult Days - 143

XXV. Dalai-kurghan — Charchan - - -151

XXVI. Private Lessons in Chinese - - - '^SS

XXVII. Revolution - - - - -158

XXVIII. Along the Southern Edge of Taklamakan 165

XXIX. Your Excellency!! — A Tragically Short

Chapter - - - - - -174

XXX. Feminine Intuition and Turki Religion - 177

XXXI. Homeward Bound - - - - 1 8 1

LIST OF PLATES IN COLOUR

Facing

Page

Women’s dress in Mongolia is noteworthy for its
soft harmonious colouring. The heavy ornaments
are of silver ----- Frontispiece
Children at Shindi, the home of Abdu Rehim - - 24

Kirghiz in the hills south of Urumtsi - - - 48

The Mongol prince Sin Chin Gegin Khan - ‘ - 64

Looking from Kirghiz across Lake Tsai Woa Poo to the
Mountain of Heaven, Thian Shan - - - 68

Mongolian lamas outside a temple yurt at Chogusan
kurai - -- -- -- -72

The burgomaster of Ak-su and his two-wheeled mapa 84
The mother and daughter of Kerim achon, the Kirghiz
hunter - - - - - - - -182

LIST OF PLATES
IN BLACK-AND-WHITE

Facing

Page

The Taklamakan Desert ----- xiv
Niaz Beg _-_----i

“ The road followed a canal, edged with tall poplars ” 4

Grey-bearded Junnos achon, carpenter and doctor - 5

Shah Chodja, a typical Taghlik _ - - - 8

Kasim plucks at his dotar ----- 8

“ An unbroken chain of mountain tops covered with
snow ”--------9

xii LIST OF PLATES

Facing

Page

Norin examining coral at Arpishme-bulak - - 12

Our Christmas camp at Mo-Chia-Hutuk - - - 12

On the way to Kurban-chik we crossed several frozen
rivers - -- -- -- -13

Map 14

Abdu Rehim and two of his kinsmen outside his home
at Shindi 22

Many of the hills in Kuruk-tagh are rich in gold - - 23

Governor-General Chin outside his yamen at Urumtsi - 30

Tomes in his working clothes - - - -31

The magnificent camp of the Grand Lama Sin Chin
Gegin Khan ------ - 38

We approach Bejan-tura - - - - - 39

Sky-blue iris - -- -- --

The burgomaster Ma-hsien-kuan - - - - 51

We were working in idyllic surroundings - - - 60

Photograph of a Kirghiz yurt - - - - 61

One of the Taoist monasteries of Bogdo - - - 61

The camp on the southern shore of Lake Tsai-Woa-Poo 70
Through deep-cut valleys almost devoid of vegetation - 71

Chogus^n kurai - - - - - - - 78

Tdven Changset, one of the most powerful Mongol
leaders, and two soldiers of his guard - - - 79

The author with his “ Thousand Eyes ” — ^his theo-
dolite --------86

Abdul achon, the white-bearded, much-travelled
caravan bashi - - - - - - 87

“ Hedin’s Pool ” 94

VorotnikofF beside the meteorological station at Mazar-

tagh - 95

A Langhru family - - - - - - 100

The higher we climbed, the more difficult it became - loi
One man walks in front holding the halter, another

walks behind and holds the animal’s tail - - 108

The interior of a courtyard in the “ Town of Rugs ” - 109

The main street of Khotan - - - - - no

Chuda-berdi-bey, with his eldest son and daughter - in

LIST OF PLATES

xiii
Facing
Page

Badrudin Khan and his grand-children - - -in

The serai, where Indian merchants bargained for the

finest products of Khotan - - - - - 112

The spinning-wheels whir in Khotan - - - 113

The 83-year-old Karekin Moldovack, faithful guardian
of a precious treasure - - - - - 1 1 4

Liou-Dao-Tai and his family - - - - - 1 1 5

Erik Norin at his plane-table - - - - -115

“ Via Dolorosa ” - - - - - - 130

The boundary mark between China and India in the
Kara-koram Pass, 18,200 feet above sea-level - - 131

Among the Kirghiz at Keng-shewar — a yak with her
calf - - - - - - - -131

A “ white patch ” on the map investigated by Erik Norin 134
A robber band? - - - - - - -135

“ The goal of our ambitions ” - - . - 142

“QuoVadis?” ------- 143

Huang Ssueh with his box of indian ink - - - 158

Ma Fu Guan and his fifteen-year-old son - - - t59

A little girl follows in the furrow sowing the grains of
wheat one by one - - - - - -172

Muhammet Emin Emir, pasha of Khotan- - - 173

“ A military parade in honour of Your Excellency!” - 176

The Mongol Tomes in his Chinese ceremonial costume - 177

KARAVAN

CHAPTER I

Chinese Turkestan — the Land of Contrasts

T he Taklamakan Desert. We are travelling towards its
southern boundary, where the oases are some days’
march apart. Wherever the eye turns, it meets nothing but
sand, heaped up into soft sand-dunes, magnificent to look at,
but terrible to travel over. The windward side is evenly ridged,
the lee side steeper, with the sand less firmly packed, so that
walking is twice as difficult. I, who have the map to make,
go with my cyclometer in as straight a line as possible due
south, but the camels are constantly forced to make wide
detours to avoid the looser patches. No one speaks unneces-
sarily — drinking water is scarce, and we keep our lips tight
shut. Only Chil, the expedition’s dog, runs with his tongue
hanging out. He is the first on the top of every dune, on the
look-out — a lovely silhouette. Roz achon, the native, glides
in his charuk, a kind of moccasin well adapted to this type of
country, easily and silently up and down, up and down. The
midday storm is over, but visibility is still extremely poor, for
the fine sand, once raised, takes a long time to settle.

You have good eyes, Chil ! So that was why you were in
such a hurry just now, but it is no use scratching round that
dry reed, we are still far from water. That was the first sign,
however — ^we are approaching life. Here and there we find
dry flakes of clay at the bottom of the valleys; reeds become

KARAVAN

more and more frequent, tamarisks grow, not in woods but
singly, surrounded by the heaped-up cones of many years;
camel-thorn begins to appear; the ground becomes firmer.
There, at last, is the first human dwelling — not a house but
simply a satma, a hut, built of branches and reeds for protection
against sun and wind.

It is here that the herds of cattle are pastured in the winter
and spring, until the heat becomes too intense for the animals,
and they are moved up to the highlands farther south. Here
the water in the springs is only a few fathoms down. And here
is the home of the sunburnt Kurban achon, commonly known
as the “ Panther’s Terror ”, the mighty hunter of the dry
desert jungles.

In the distance the horizon is jagged. Individual poplars,
pushing up their heads above their fellows, tell us that we are
approaching an oasis. Already there are paths and narrow
tracks to walk on, crossed here and there by dried-up canals.
If it had been August, they would have been full of water,
but now at the end of May we go through them dry-shod.
There is the first real house, low and flat-roofed. Beside it is
a little kol or loba^ a dug-out dam to which water is conveyed
by a canal. It is refilled once a week, and this water is used
for household purposes — not a very hygienic arrangement.

As we go on, the houses become more and more numerous,
and the meshes in the net of irrigation canals that intersect the
country, closer and closer. Between them lie well-ordered
fields. We pass a furrow which must, many years ago, have
been a river bed; the ground is still a bit soggy and so it is,
used for growing rice. The white rice-stalks gleam in the
bright light like mother-of-pearl.

Over there is a grove of peach trees, and here is a vineyard.
Maize and wheat fields, hemp and lucerne, melons and vege-
tables. The whole picture speaks of prosperity.

This house belongs to Niaz Beg. He is a big merchant, a
very prosperous bey, as can be seen at once from his elegant

CHINESE TURKESTAN 3

head-dress, a white, elaborately wound turban Vith an edging
of snow-leopard skin. He is an old man and a wise one —
his beard shows that. The eastern Turk is generally a much-
married man, and children are scrambling about wherever one
turns. The surname Beg is really a title — ^approximately
equivalent to our chairman of a town council — but with the
difference that it is bought. Expensive, but none the less
honourable I

That large house just behind the mosque belongs to Jussup
Hadji, another bey. He is held in still higher esteem than Niaz
Beg, even though he is not so rich — so strange are the ways
of this land of open spaces. He is wise in council, and has
been to Mecca. It is a long journey — it seldom takes less than
a year — but then, in recompense for his zeal, it confers on the
faithful forgiveness for his sins — in some cases only for those
already committed, in others for whatever may be committed
in the future as well. It must, however, in fairness be admitted
that this latter grace is only granted in return for a special
and very considerable monetary payment.

Every year large parties of pilgrims set out from the
country — ^generally rich merchants, whose consciences per-
haps trouble them. Sometimes a young molla^ or priest,
anxious for religious advancement, will join the party. Now
and then one comes across a deeply religious individual;
but hardly ever does one find anyone who has what we mean
by morals. The word “ honourable ” is often used here in
jest, but it does not correspond to anything real.

We have been passing for some time through rich cultivated
land. At first the road followed a canal, edged with tall poplars.
In the summer it is difiicult to get people here to do heavy
work. Why should they, when they can sleep instead ? Food
is no difficulty. Look at those mulberry trees; you have only
to shake them quite lightly to bring the fruit showering
down. These are black, those over there are white, fleshy,
nourishing and sweet, almost too sweet for our taste. You

(rtOZ) 3

KARAVAN

gather a handful and eat them, and then you lie down in the
shade and enjoy your otium cum dignitate. The days drift
aimlessly and indolently by. Happily? Perhaps.

But then comes winter. The mulberries are over, the
weather begins to turn cold. Then the man goes to a bey and
asks for food. “ Yes, if you will enter my service, you shall
have food.” He is a “ good ” man, the bey, he offers him
both food and work, and even wage?! Not so much of either
the first or the last, but all the more of the middle item, work.
Day labourers are plentiful, all in the same position, and so
they can do nothing but accept submissively and hire them-
selves out for a year, for the sum of five or perhaps ten shillings;
and this not per week or per month, but in post-payment for
the whole year. Next summer the master sees to it that his
servant does not lie and sleep under any mulberry tree — ^at all
events not in the daytime. He has to swing his ketmin, or
heavy pick, help with the ploughing, sow and reap, and above
all keep the irrigation canals in good repair, for these are the
indispensable basis of all agriculture in the oases of Takla-
makan.

We turn on to the main road, an artery pulsing with life.
Beggars in brightly coloured rags, laden with all kinds of
finery, often of a religious nature, all carry on their arms a
seven-stringed ravap or a two-stringed dotar. Music touches
the heart of the passer-by and disposes him to be generous.
The Turki loves music, so does the Mongol and the Kirghiz.
Their melodies sound melancholy-sweet in our ears, even
though the tunes themselves are often monotonous enough.
But the noisy discords of the Chinese, those frightful piercing
wails that sound like a file grating on a saw, I for my part
never learnt to enjoy.

All the time we keep meeting caravans. One man is riding
on a donkey at the head of a string of twelve camels. He
sprawls face downwards along her back and dozes while she
jogs quietly on. Her short legs go like drumsticks, and the

Grey-bearded Junnos achoriy carpenter and doctor

CHINESE TURKESTAN

rope attached tb the heck of the first camel is taut the whole
time. The Other camels are tied together by means of a fine
cord from the bridle of the one behind to the saddle of the
one in front. If one of the animals stops, the cord is snapped.
The man sprawling on the donkey notices this at once, for
then the bell on the last camel stops ringing, and it is to this
sound that he is accustomed to sleep.

The various transport animals — camels, horses, mules,
donkeys — all carry heavy and valuable burdens. Massive
iron bars and matches from Russia, cloths and spices from
India, tamarisk branches from some wood near by which is
already dried up and dead, onions and carrots from a neigh-
bouring farm. Heavily loaded carts, harnessed with two
horses, picturesquely dressed drivers, cracking their long
whips. Out on the plain the heat is grilling; it is cooler here
in this leafy avenue, but the dust keeps whirling incessantly,
and one is glad of one’s close-fitting motor-goggles.

We enter the town itself by a fine gateway, and go down
the main street. It is bazaar day, or market day, which explains
why there are so many people about. Crowds, seething crowds,
and what a stench 1 The road is shaded by means of rush mats
hung between the roofs for protection against the burning
sunshine. Chinese, Turkis, and a few Kirghiz. The women
in their colourful costumes are heavily veiled — “ No woman
is so beautiful that she is not fairer in a veil ”. The text of
the whole picture might be: “ Colour is there to be used.”

The great wall on the left is to protect the yamen, the
Chinese burgomaster’s spacious dwelling, from evil spirits.
The Chinese are the masters. Although few in numbers,
they have kept the country in their own hands by a wise
unity among themselves. They are good colonizers, and
Sinkiang, or Chinese Turkestan as it is more commonly called,
would seem to be far happier under Chinese government
than under native rule.

Shu Darin (J^arin is derived from Da Rhen, which means

KARAVAN

Great Man), the burgomaster, prefers to wear European
clothes, which are nothing like so beautiful as the Chinese.
He has no son, “ only ” a daughter. His wife expresses the
matter thus: “ I have nothing to boast about, only a weak
breath to tend.”

The residence is built of fired, blue-grey bricks, with small
alcoves on the walls decorated with fresco paintings in delicate
tints, like water-colours, by Huang Ssueh, one of the scribes.

Liou-Dao-Tai, the governor of the province, who lives
on the right, loves his old robes and continues to wear them,
in defiance of the regulation which has just been issued that
all officials must wear European dress. The old man’s eyes
shine with kindness, his whole person inspires a feeling of
confidence, a respect due not merely to his old age, but to some-
thing essentially aristocratic about him.

Why is one so often disappointed in this land.? I once
spent a few hours in the old man’s company. As time went by
he appeared less and less to advantage, became morose, nervy,
violent, found difficulty in following the conversation; his
gaze became weak and wandering: he was longing for his
opium. How many people has that terrible poison destroyed ?

The road is wider now and has been well sprinkled with
water, so that we are free from the horrible dust. All along the
road are rows of neat and decorative shops. You can buy
silks and shagreen from Shanghai, sardines from Portugal,
porcelain from Russia, candles from Japan, soap from Ger-
many, knives from Andijan, besides all the products of the
country itself: paper and cotton, carpets and raw silk, hides
and furs, and so on. Time and again we pass some dark shop
with a funny Chinese character, generally carved in wood and
gilded, hanging outside for a shop sign. These are the pawn-
shops. Ruinous rates of interest, and unpleasant methods of
collecting it, can never frighten the Turki away from these
horrible places, where many of them are reduced to absolute
penury by the sly and crafty Chinese. Hatred of the usurers

CHINESE TURKESTAN

was undoubtedly one of the chief causes of the revolutionary
movement which swept over the country of recpnt years and
wiped out many Chinese colonies.

We pass through another town gate. The street continues
for a little way, and then the rice and maize, wheat and lucerne,
begin again. We are moving farther and farther south.
Darkness falls — there is no twilight here. The grey-bearded
Junnos achon gives us cool night-quarters, the camels are
unloaded, fed and watered, and “ parked ” in long rows.
Due south of us is a steep terrace. There is the map to be
filled in, the meteorological instruments to be read, our
position to be taken by the stars, finally the diaries come out,
and at midnight there are wireless time signals. Sleep. The
pleasure of the fur-lined sleeping-bag, of the little soft cushion
filled with fine down — memories of beloved parents.

We set out again first thing in the morning, but we pro-
mise Junnos we will come back again: the duck he sold us
yesterday only cost threepence. Luscious black grapes and
blooming peaches, bursting figs and sweet-scented apricots,
are being sold everywhere for next to nothing.

Up on the terrace we turn and look north. There lies
the whole oasis spread before us. The thousand canals are
easy to pick out because of the rows of tall poplars on either
side. A veritable Land of Goshen. What does it look like in
the other direction ?

Rather a contrast. To the south there is no trace of life,
not a bush, not a plant, not a house — save here, just where
we are standing, a few graves. For the dwellings of the dead
they have chosen a dead land.

As far as the eye can see stretches nothing but desolate,
arid waste. A sterile desert of pebbles, generally vanishing in
the far distance, where the horizon is hidden by a greyish-
yellow, pall-like bank of clouds. Here and there you can pick
up salt straight off the ground.

Sometimes if you are lucky you can see what lies behind

KARAVAN

the curtain: a series of crests and peaks, the home of the
swift-footed, tough hill-men.

We march all day over the stony desert, and encamp in
the evening in a dry river bed, where some tamarisks provide
us with firewood. There is no water for the camels; for our-
selves we have a few mouthfuls.

At dawn we set out again southwards. Before long we can
distinguish the soft outlines of the lower ranges; touches of
vegetation begin to appear, becoming more abundant. Pas-
turage grows tolerable, and with our field-glasses we can make
out flocks of sheep here and there. By the afternoon we reach
a little village, consisting of scattered houses with small fields
round about.

Here the Taghliks, or hill-men, cultivate their arpa, a
cross between rye, barley, and oats. Quantities of different
kinds of small grasses grow on the slopes of the hills, for the
sheep and goats to graze on. Camel-thorn is found too, which,
as its name implies, is considered a special delicacy by the
“ proud ship of the desert ”. Herds of horses and donkeys
are watched by young boys dressed entirely in skins. We are
given a welcome meal by Shah Chodja. He still has some
delicious melons left over from last year’s harvest, and the
chicken, of which BSrtem Chan makes us soup, is plump and
fine. She flavours it with Jumolak suput — ^which sounds
frightful but tastes excellent — and at the bottom of the dish
a little cluster of small radishes, onions and carrots bobs up
and down. The son of the house, Kasim, plucks at the strings
of his dotar and sings of the ever-recurring problem, woman
and love. Farther up among the hills we come across a herd
or two of yaks, and a little farther still, cultivation ends.
After that a magnificent wild life begins — antelopes and wild
sheep, yaks, marmots, wolves, foxes, lynxes, and even a few
bears.

One stage farther south; we are climbing higher and
higher, and it is turning cold; the only means of transport is

Shah Chodja, a typical Taghhk Kasim plucks at his dotar

An unbroken chain of mountain tops covered with snow

CHINESE TURKESTAN

the yak. Then the path becomes too difficult for him, and
only man can go on. But before long it would tax even a
trained mountaineer, so we stop and content ourselves with
photographing the scene before us. An unbroken chain of
mountain tops covered with ice and snow, which one can
follow for almost two hundred miles before reaching a point
where it is possible to cross them and enter Tibet — the goal
of our ambitions.

CHAPTER II

Kuruk-tagh — the “ Dry Hills ”

I T was the summer of 1929. I had just come through a
difficult time. A bad attack of dysentery had prevented me
for six months from giving any thought to work. Dysentery
is a very serious illness, but Hummel, the expedition’s doctor,
was — in fact is — extremely competent, and my nurses were
no less so. Sven Hedin himself had watched by my bedside
night after night. He was in Peking now, but before leaving
me here in Urumtsi, he had introduced me to all my com-
panions on the expedition.

These were:

Su-Ping-Chano, the learned doctor of philosophy, who
so kindly inscribed on my visiting-cards the symbols “ peace-
ful ” and “ learned ” ! He was the head of the Chinese con-
tingent on our expedition.

Major Hem PEL, a typical example of the fine German soldier,
who was now responsible for the administration at Urumtsi
and for our bodily welfare.

Dr. Haude, master of the thermometers and barometers,
professor of meteorology to the “ Travelling University ”, a
man of lofty ideals and a splendid companion.

The ever cheerful Henning Haslund, friend of the
* Mongols and of all of us, known to the society of Urumtsi
as the ” Danish Cherub ”. He later became my riding-
master.

Folks Bergman, the genial Santa Claus who came riding

along with long icicles in his beard. It was after him that we

KURUK-TAGH

later christened the group on the Etsin-gol tract the “ Fol-
kungs

Professor Yuan-Fu-Li, who arrived one winter’s day with
the glad tidings that he had found dinosaur remains, and
even brought back a dinosaur egg. We worked together for a
month in the hills of Bogdo Ula, and became very good friends.

And last, but not the least important of my companions,
the geologist, Erik Norin. A tall figure, pipe in mouth, with
weather-beaten face, a small pointed beard, steel-grey eyes,
every inch the field geologist; the experienced and reliable
colleague, the warm friend.

Norin had just been home on a visit to Sweden. We two
were at last to set off on a trip together to Kuruk-tagh.

Case after case was packed and numbered. The loads
were carefully weighed — each camel was to carry 350 lb.
The animals were in magnificent condition, their humps
distended and their muscles firm. The summer pasturage in
the Bogdo hills had done them good. One great male camel,
with frothing mouth and a dangerous look, could easily have
carried 500 lb.

Two dogs accompanied us, Dang-y-Dang, a beautiful
little creature with a shining black coat, and her brother
Tienshan, shaggy and unbrushed, but strong enough for
two. They were relatives of Hummel’s Zenta, and all had
the same family feature to the rear: a bushy tail which stood
straight up in the air and looked just like a mark of interro-
gation.

After the pass of Charguz-tagh, 6600 feet high, we dropped
steadily down into the Turfan depression until we even
reached a point some feet below sea-level. The road winds
up through a deep valley on the south side of the long depres-
sion, becoming all the time more difficult to traverse. Enor-
mous boulders lie scattered over the bottom of the narrow
valley. At Arghai-bulak, or the Spring of the Stallion, which is
mentioned as far back as the annals of the Han dynasty, the

KARAVAN

water flows out direct over green, moss-covered rocks. It is
fresh, clear and cool, and can be drunk without boiling — ^as
does not often happen in this country.

Then we broke away from the road and turned south-
east. We were by now among the barren hills which formed
our objective — Kuruk-tagh, the “ Dry Hills ”. This, the
Turki name, suits the district well ; but why should the Mon-
gols call it Hurtegen-Ul, the “ Rain Hills ” ? It certainly
sounds strange, but there is a reason, and we shall see later
that both names are justified.

Kuruk-tagh is a chain of hills running from east to west,
separated by wide valleys of impressive dimensions. The
bottoms of these valleys are often salt-encrusted, the earth
lying in mounds shining with crystals which are as hard as
glass. This ground, known as is very bad for travelling.
In earlier times there were big lakes there, and still farther
back, in the palaeozoic period, large tracts of what is now
mountain were covered by the sea. Norin found a pretty
proof of this at one of our first camps. It was at Arpishme-
bulak, one of our big stations.

One afternoon I was sitting working out my astronomical
observations from the evening before, when Norin came into
the tg>t beaming with joy. “ Come and look, I have found
something interesting. It is quite close. You must come and
look. Only don’t run and trip over it.”

We were off in a moment. Norin is tall, a head taller
than I ; has long legs and is a quick walker. I was half run-
ning at his side, and stumbled a moment, but went on again
unsuspecting. He stopped and laughed: “ I said, don’t run
and trip over it.” We turned and went back to the place
where I had nearly fallen. It looked nothing remarkable:
a row of stones sticking up out of the ground. But on closer
inspection, I understood his excitement.

It was a coral-reef\ It sounds like a fairy-tale. Coral in
the heart of Asia, the largest unbroken stretch of land on the

On the way to Kurhan-chik we crossed several frozen rivers

KURUK-TAGH

earth’s surface? The imagination can hardly grasp what the
world must have been like thousands of years ago, so different
from the world we know to-day. Interesting geological dis-
coveries of this kind were frequent, and many of them im-
portant. These were happy days, when we worked hard and
enjoyed it. A quotation from my diary will show the kind of
atmosphere we lived in:

“ Devilish cold. Norin helped me as usual with the
place-location. I enjoy my geology lessons. Already I view
the landscape with quite different eyes, and it helps me con-
siderably with my own job. Erik has marked out a place
down on the ‘ shor ’ for measuring out a base-line with an invar
tape. We are going to try to get trigonometric relations for
the whole field we are working over. If we succeed, we shall
get very exact heights, both relative and absolute, and shall
also be able to make better use of the meteorological material.
We have quite a little town round us, with our magnificent
camp among the tamarisks. The pasturage is good, and the
water drinkable though salt. We have seen no more than the
tracks of antelopes. Ottehong has caught an eaglet. All
goes well. The chief ought to be here to see usl”

In the middle of October we got another fifteen camels
from Kara-shahr, and with them came the incomparable
Mongol, Tomes. I very soon discovered one of his many
virtues and raised him to the rank, honour, and dignity of
Cook. He could make Swedish rissoles.

“ Vorotnikoff is distilling water. The accumulators are
being recharged, and the magnetic work is under way. The
tool-case has arrived safe and sound. Everything is grand.
I am feeling tremendously cheerful to-day, for no particular
reason. Erik is superstitious and attributes it to the full moon.
The temperature inside the tent this morning was — ii° C.
It already takes some strength of mind to wash oneself.”

We left the valley that had been our home for some time,
and set off southwards, following a dry stream-bed. A toghrak

KARAVAN

(a kind of poplar) was lying in the middle of the valley, torn
up by the roots, and looked as though it had lain there for a
year. Where had it come from ? There was no trace of vege-
tation in the vicinity.

We encamped that evening at a spot where Norin’s sharp
senses had detected firing. Almost no vegetation. It was
cold, but we were cheerful enough.

The next day too we followed the valley. In the evening
we came on a thin poplar wood. This, then, was where the
toghrak must have come from; but how could it have been
carried all that long way? Well, there is the explanation of
the Mongol name for the district, Hurtegen-Ul, the Rain
Hills. It sometimes happens that it does rain in this district,
though seldom. But when it comes, it comes with a vengeance.
Not gentle spring showers, but cascades of water, as though
all the windows of heaven had been opened. The rain flows
down from the surrounding hills into the valleys, which may be
flooded to a depth of five or six feet. We noticed a poplar
that had a band of reeds and twigs plastered round the trunk
at eye-level, obviously an indication of the height the water
had reached at the last flood. On such occasions trees may
easily be torn up and carried right down to the wide valley,
where we had stood and gazed in astonishment at the solitary
tree trunk that morning.

The Mongols call the hills the Hurtegen-Ul because
they are afraid of these violent rains. Suppose a herdsman
lias encamped in one of the valleys, and is wakened during
the night by a thunderstorm. The animals are uneasy; the
only hope is to get away, and get away quickly. Where can
he drive his herd for shelter? The dull roar of rushing water
can be heard already in the distance. Perhaps he will be
able to get his frightened animals up in time on to a hillside
where they are safe; but if not, many of them will lose their
lives when the yellowish-grey, muddy flood-water sweeps
down.

KURUK-TAGH

The Turki who calls the hills Kuruk-tagh, the Dry Hills,
has no large herds to worry about. He lives by cultivating
small fields in such districts as there is water to be had. There
are not many such. The whole of this area, which is as large
as Denmark (16,600 square miles), only contains a handful
of habitations. The population cannot be more than 300
persons, or a density of *018 per square mile in comparison
with 214 per square mile in Denmark.

Christmas, 1929, at Mo-Chia-Hutuk. I quote direct from
my diary:

“ A consignment has arrived from headquarters. The
yurt^ looks like a well-stocked general store. Pendulums,
theodolites, thermometers, barometers, hams, sausages, wine,
spirits, new cooking-stoves, warm underclothes, a goose,
butter, jam, sugar, candles, tins of food, newspapers, shoulders
of mutton, tongue, caviare, maps, and — Letters. (These
caused much heart-burning for several days.) Old Abdu
Rehim brought us a sack of milk, frozen in blocks,
which is the way they transport it here in the winter. ‘ Cheer
up, porridge to-morrow T It is terrible how material-minded
one becomes. Not altogether, though. On the night of
Christmas Eve we read Kipling, Karlfeldt, Gabriel JOnsson
and GrSnkSpings veckoblad (a Swedish comic paper), and
on the morning of Christmas Day we played Christmas carols
on the gramophone.”

^ A tent consisting of light wooden framework and red cloth or felt covering.

CHAPTER III

A Standing Long-jump

I T was the lath January, 1930. We were in a jagged, rocky
district, and the day’s march looked like being more
than usually difficult. Our road lay through a deep valley,
at the bottom of which ran a little stream, now frozen over,
and there were patches of ice all about. The valley was so
narrow that in many places it would be impossible for the
camels to get through with their loads, which stood out some
distance on either side. We had reconnoitred the day before,
and we knew what lay before us. To prevent any accident
occurring, we had decided that Norin, who was by far the
most experienced, should travel with the animals and see
that everything was done for their safety, so that none of
them slipped and injured themselves. He was also to keep
an eye on the cases containing our many valuable scientific
instruments. If a case containing a chronometer or some
pendulums or wireless apparatus happened to get a hard
knock, it might mean that we should have to do without
this indispensable apparatus for the rest of the trip. We
had fifty camels. Norin had his hands full.

I went on ahead with two servants and a donkey to make
the map of the day’s route. The liquid compass was placed
on a stand, and gave us the direction of our route. Say that
this was due north-west; it would be put down as 315“,
the true bearing. Forward march with the eyes fixed on the
point selected. A long stick is held under the arm, with a
wheel fixed to the end. Each time the wheel makes a. com-
plete revolutioh, it gives a little click, and these clicks are

A STANDING LONG-JUMP

counted. After fifty clicks, we stop. The wheel is 2 metres in cir-
cumference. We have therefore walked exactly 100 metres. A
line 2 mm. long is marked on the drawing-board in the direc-
tion 315°, for we are working to scale 1:50,000. The next
direction is taken, and we walk on. Slowly our path traces
itself out on the map. By the side of our line of march run
mountain contours, with here and there a valley, marked
with a black line if it is dry, or a blue one if it has water.

On our left a large tributary valley ran up from the south,
with occasional patches of vegetation, and through it we
could see some distant peaks. I took their direction, in the
hope of later getting other angles on these same peaks and
so fixing them on our map. The vegetation was marked with
green, water with blue, rock with brown, archaeological
discoveries with red, and so on. The picture pieced itself
slowly together.

We arrived at about three o’clock in the afternoon at the
spot where we meant to encamp. The tent was unpacked,
and I told Lao Djao and Lao Djang, the two Chinese, to set
it up and then collect firewood and get everything ready so
that the camp could be quickly pitched when the main caravan
arrived.

As it was only three o’clock, I reckoned that I should
have plenty of time to climb a peak just north of us, from
which I hoped to get another view of those mountains I had
seen before to the south. It looked about 1500 feet high.
I took a compass, barometer, and camera, and set off. Four
o’clock came, then five. I had climbed 1500 feet already,
but I was still a long way from the top, which must have
been more like 3000 than 1500 feet above the camp. I had
estimated the height quite wrong, which is easily done when
you stand below and have no points of comparison. The
sun had disappeared already, and it would soon be dark.
There was no possibility of getting to the top now.

Was all my trouble to be wasted, then ? No, I was in luck.

i8 KARAVAN

There was another summit just beside me, and from it I
could see, through a dip on the other side of the valley, those
very mountains that I vras so anxious to get. I took their
direction with my compass, the angle of elevation with my
clinometer, which I always kept in my pocket, and my own
height above the camp with the Paulin barometer. The
camera I had taken up in vain. It was too dark by now to
take a photograph except with a stand.

There lay the camp in the valley below. Norin had
arrived. The tents were up, and smoke was rising from the
kitchen quarters. Lao Wang, Norin's excellent cook, had
got a chicken that morning; we should have it for dinner
beyond a doubt, with curry and rice. And Lao Wang knew
his job.

I decided to join the party without delay, and picked a
short cut which I thought looked safe. Hunger lent wings to
my feet — I had eaten nothing since eight o’clock breakfast.

At first all went well; then I came to a drop about six
feet high, jumped down without a thought, and went cheer-
fully on. Next drop; not six feet this time, but more like a
hundred and fifty. So I did not jump, but turned back crest-
fallen to the first drop. Now it is easy enough to jump down
six feet — but up 1 That is another matter. I moved along the
face of the rock. A little farther on, it was twelve feet; I
tried the other side; there it was twenty. The first was the
lowest point. It was not simply that the rock was perpen-
dicular, it was positively overhanging. There was no possi-
bility of getting a firm foothold.

I shall have to try to find some loose stones, I thought,
and build a sort of step to climb up on. There were no loose
stones. There was nothing. Not a tussock, not a bush, nothing
but bare, unyielding rock. H’ml

Back to the 1 50-foot drop. This was, in a way, a little more
accommodating. At the other side of the drop another cliff
rose to the same level as the platform on which I stood. The

A STANDING LONG-JUMP

cleft between them was deep, but not so terribly wide, only
six feet at the narrowest point. Six little feetl Anyone could
jump that. Yes, if they could take a run, but here it was
impossible to take a run. A wall of rock rose up behind me
at exactly that point, and made the distance over the cleft
feel twice as great, while the abyss below doubled it yet again.

I decided to call for help from the camp. I shouted, I
yelled. Hopeless. The face of rock opposite cut off the sound
completely. I shall have to spend the night up here, I thought.
But that thought was quickly banished by another. How
cold was it, last night.? — 27° F. Then it was overcast,
to-night is clear; it will be colder to-night. I was right. It
actually turned below — 22° F., and in view of the fact that
there was nothing to make a fire with I felt I preferred not
to stay.

Only one possibility remained — to jump, and hope for
the best. Well, in that case, I would make myself as light as
possible. I had an alpenstock, and with its help I lifted the
instruments over on to the other side. Camera, compass,
barometer. Then my fur coat, jacket and waistcoat, which
was as much as I could decently take off. I stood there in
my shirt-sleeves and looked across at the other side.

One does not quickly forget such moments. In a few
seconds a kaleidoscope of pictures passed by, and many
thoughts flashed through my brain. But there was no time
to stand thinking for long; it was so cold that my skin tingled.
My alpenstock just reached over to the opposite side. I
wedged it into a crevice so that it could not slip, and swung
myself over on it to the other ledge. I had managed it, I had
managed it perfectly; but all the same I was so shaken that
I was dripping with perspiration. The crevice into which
I had wedged my alpenstock was no crevice at all, but a
great loose block of rock lying a-tilt. It toppled over the
precipice and crashed to the bottom with a hollow thud. My
alpenstock went with it. If I had happened to jump just

(F 602) 3

KARAVAN

there, I and not the alpenstock would have been at the bottom.

It was a frightful shock. But the cold was intense, and I
quickly pulled myself together, got my clothes on and set
off downwards. I had soon reached the bottom, and by that
time I was in great form again. There was a wonderful smell
coming from the kitchen, and apparently we were going to
have coffee too, which we saw only very rarely. I made straight
for Norin's tent. He was looking as black as thunder. Evi-
dently my troubles were not over yet.

“ It’s all very well your enjoying your work. I do too.
But you must work with a little common sense. I suppose
you’ll admit that.” — I admitted it. — “ If you want to climb
a hill, you set out early in the morning. Anything so idiotic
as starting off at three o’clock in the afternoon, I never heard
of. And then one takes, preferably, a few servants, and at
all events axes and irons and picks and ropes.” Yes, it was an
alarming list, and the strange thing was that if I had only
had a single one of those things with me, the situation would
have been easily dealt with. And last of all came the thing
that infuriated me most. I had seen the camp from above.
He had seen me from below too, and had seen that I did
not come down the same way that I went up. Now for it.
“ And one more thing. Always come down the same way as
you go up. Remember thatl”

The storm had worked itself out, and he began to look
considerably more amiable. I took off my fur coat, undid
my waistcoat, and invited him to stick his fist in and feel. I
was wringing wet. ” What have you been doing ?” Norin asked.
When I told him, he said : " Don’t do that again. The food
is stone coldl”

I related this anecdote at a lecture once in Stockholm.
The following evening, when I was visiting some friends,
my hostess proved very sceptical, and thought that long-jvunp
of mine must be a made-up story. The only way to convince
her, I decided, was to give a demonstration. I paced out six

A STANDING LONG-JUMP

feet on the floor. They lived in a modern flat with large
windows, and on the window-ledge stood a row of most ex-
quisite cacti.

I jumped. It cost her three of the cacti, but the window-
pane and I held. Since then she has believed implicitly
everything I say.

CHAPTER IV

Divine Service

AT the southern foot of Kuruk-tagh, on the edge of
XJL the stony Sai, just where a steep valley opens out
between two ridges of hill, lies Kurban-chik, the Place of
Sacrifice. A name like that generally conjures up an image
of a little bazaar-street with a few mud-huts of shops, the
wares spread out on rugs, and the merchant sitting cross-
legged in the corner; fields of maize and wheat; a few tall
poplars round the dam, and a little grove of apricot and
peach trees behind the house of the village headman. Kur-
ban-chik, however, is not that kind of oasis, but merely an
unusually good and abundant spring. It has no human dwell-
ings. Just occasionally some shepherd may spend the night
there with his flock; or, still more rarely, a foreign traveller
with a train of camels, horses and donkeys.

I arrived on the 7th February, 1930. Norin was expected
a few days later — he had gone by a different way, a little
farther to the east, while I for the last few days had been
following the route that Sven Hedin had already mapped.
The place presented an unusual aspect on the day we arrived:
the ground was covered with snow I But the dry wind soon
carried it away. The camel drivers did not trouble to put up
the tents; there was so much drift-wood about that they
simply made huge log-fires, and slept in a circle round the
embers, wrapped in their, long, sheep-skin coats.

Kurban-chik was one of our principal stations. We
carried out penduliun observations, astronomical locations,

Ahdu Rehim {centre) and two of his kinsmen outside his home at Shindi

Many of the hills in Kuruk-tagh are rich in gold. This valley
is known as Altungoly the Gold Valley

DIVINE SERVICE

triangulation, mapping, and as usual Norin marked in the
different geological formations.

We had three dogs with us now. There was Snaps, the
big, long-haired Tibetan, who looked like a cross between a
wolf and a bear, and who had accompanied Haslund on
many a joyous trip among the Mongols. Then there were
Dang-y-Dang and Tienshan, the two Mongols we had brought
with us from Urumtsi. Snaps and Dang-y-Dang had got
married, after quite a short engagement. But the little Mongol
bitch kept other company as well. In particular she had been
very interested at Shindi in Abdu Rehim’s brown watch-dog.
When her first litter of puppies came — black-and-white,
brown-and-grey — v/t allowed three of them to live. The
mother was touchingly devoted to her little ones; she had
found a deserted fox-burrow in among the tamarisk cones,
and there she brought them into the world. The Mongol
Tomes, who was my cook, declared that it was a good omen
for the pups to be born where there was water as well as
vegetation and firing; and they did grow into fine dogs!
Tomes himself was born on the highroad. His mother had
been down at the river washing, the throes of labour came on
her on the way home, and the boy was born there by the
roadside. The lamas at the monastery of Kara-shahr — Tomes
was brought up at Kara-shahr — ^interpreted this to mean:
“ The boy will be a great traveller.” Their prophecy was not
far out!

We had a welcome visitor one day at Kurban-chik in the
person of Abdu Rehim, the headman of the village of Shindi.
He was a traveller, like Tomes, and an extraordinarily in-
teresting character. He knew Kuruk-tagh better than anyone,
and was the chief of its biggest village, Shindi. It was quite a
little place — it may have had fifty inhabitants — but Abdu
Rehim, the Ak-sakal, enjoyed greater prestige than many a
chief of a far bigger community. He was a positive Nimrod,
and was often to be seen sitting discoursing to a listening

KARAVAN

group about wild camels, tigers and bears, lynxes and boars,
while generally someone sat beside him playing the dotar.

Abdu Rehim knew every inch of the country: every
spring, every scrap of pasturage, every ore deposit, everything.
He knew which were the fresh-water springs, and which were
only slightly salt, so that animals could drink from them.
He knew too when the winter ice, which forms in huge mounds
round the springs and contains less salt than the water itself,
came to an end. He was a born geographer, and he did us
many a good service, just as he had previously helped our
chief, Sven Hedin, and every other traveller who had visited
his magnificent but inhospitable hills during the past fifty
years.

This time he had come down to us in order to arrange
for the shepherds up in the hills to send us some sheep; he
had heard that we were short of provisions, and knew how
unwilling his people were to sell to strangers.

Sven Hedin had instructed us to thank the old man for
his help on many occasions, and we had brought him a splendid
present, a samovar of shining nickel. I finished my gravity
determination, the instruments were packed in their cases,
and then we cleared my large yurt and made it ready for oiu*
festivities. Abdu Rehim was to be the guest of honour, and
we also invited some friends of his who had come with him.
Of course we had to oflFer them the Turki ceremonial dish,
pilau. Saidul, the young boy who was so good at climbing
hills and had such a gift for finding fossils — it was through
Abdu Rehim that we had got hold of him — ^was to prepare it
according to all the proper rules.

We assembled in the yurt. The stately samovar was
carried in, and tea was served with many lumps of sugar.
Norin made a little speech in Chinese, which Abdu Rehim
also understands, expressing our gratitude to him and con-
veying a greeting from our chief, who in days gone by had
also been his chief, and begged him to accept our gift as a

Children at Shindi, the home of Abdu Rehim,

DIVINE SERVICE

keepsake. He thanked us with some emotion, laying his
hand on his heart. The samovar was carried out and packed
carefully under his personal supervision.

Once more we assembled in the yurt. A large cast-iron
pot stood in the centre of the floor on an iron tripod. A roar-
ing fire was made up, and most of the smoke went out by the
hole in the roof, which was drawn up on the lee side, to give
a better draught. As soon as the pot is hot, you drop in the
fat. This is kujruky the fatty tail of a sheep, chopped in pieces.
It splutters and jumps. When all the fat has melted, the
“ greaves ”, or crackling, are taken out, and the fire is made
up again. A fight ensues for the greaves, for they are a tit-
bit, in their warm and tender state.

As soon as the pot begins to smoke, a few pinches of salt
are thrown in, and then a handful of water is sprinkled over
it. Pale-blue smoke rises up, and thus are the evil spirits
driven out. Then comes the turn of the onions and carrots,
which lie waiting at the side cut up in slices, and finally the
meat is added. This is cut in pieces about an inch long, and
when it has browned sufficiently in the boiling fat, a few
cupfuls of scalding water are thrown in. This has to boil
up, and then the rice is added, which has previously been
washed in several waters, the last of them hot. All the black
grains and dirt are picked out, and it is laid carefully in the
pot with a long iron ladle. A little hollow is made in the
centre on top and filled with rasins, rinsed in water; the lid
is put on, and after it has boiled up, the rim of the pot is
closed over with dough. The big burning logs are taken away
and only the embers left, and in two hours’ time the dish is
ready to serve. Those two hours are normally whiled away
with amusing stories and anecdotes, mostly in the style of
and taken from the Arabian Nights' Entertainments. But as
we knew no Turki worth mentioning, we entertained our
guests in a different way, apparently to their satisfaction.

Caruso began with a resounding aria. Fleta sang, ” Aye,

KARAVAN

aye, aye Brita Hertzberg gladdened our hearts with the
Swedish folksong, “ Bilberries in our paddock Beethoven
and Chopin were received with bewilderment but approval.
A lively rhapsody by Brahms was applauded. And last of
all Harry Lauder sang, “ Keep right on to the end of the
road ”, the song that ” strengthened you for the road, in-
creased your longing for what lay at the other end, and har-
monized, in addition, with the beauty of wild nature ”, as
Haslund described it.

The guests of honour sat on the tent mat in their long
dark coats, chapatty and held out their hands towards the
glowing embers. Their eyes were shining, this was a great
moment for them. Wonder and admiration were written on
their faces. The door of the tent was crowded with a group
of eagerly listening shepherds, who had got wind of what
was going on.

At length the food was ready. The beautiful old water-
jug was handed round with a towel, and everyone washed
three times. The white-bearded old Abdu Rehim blessed
the food with outstretched hands in the light of the fading
embers. It was consumed in silence. Again the old man
raised his hands, palms upwards, and everyone followed his
example, while he said grace in his deep, musical voice: ” Allah
akbar — ^Allah is great,” and their hands passed with a caress-
ing movement down their faces and beards. We got up and
went out of the yurt, and as Norin and I stood at the door,
the Turkis turned and thanked us: ” RachmSt, chosh bolde,
rachmkt — ^Thank you, a very great pleasure, thank you.”

They wrapped themselves in their long fur coats and lay
down to sleep under the shining stars round the big fire on
the terrace beside the camp.

Norin had taken down his tent, and spent the night with
me in the yurt. Very soon we were both in our sleeping-bags.
A low, caressing sound could be heard close by: it was Dang-y-
Dang, licking her puppies. They had been present throughout

DIVINE SERVICE

all the festivities, and they too had enjoyed the music. I patted
the little lady good night — sleep well 1

• •••••••••

In a moment I was wide awake. What was that.? On
with my boots and fur coat. “ Get up, Erik, hurry!” Norin
obediently jumped out of his sleeping-bag, and we wrapped
ourselves up warmly and crept out. On a little hillock close
by, Abdu Rehim had spread out his fur coat on the ground
and was chanting his morning prayer in his rich voice, his
hands held high in the air, his eyes turned towards Mecca.

The sun was rising red above the horizon just where the
hills melted into the plain of the desert. Far away to the
south a low mist hung over the new river, Kum-darya. On
the terrace below us lay the camels, on the lee-side, with
white frost in their dark, soft wool. All was still and beautiful
— music for eye and ear — a memorable moment not soon
to be forgotten, a divine service.

CHAPTER V

Diplomacy and Lop Nor

F rom Kurban-chik Norin went south-eastwards and I
to the south, while Abdu Rehim rode home to Shindi
with his samovar. One of the young men who accompanied
him offered to take it on his horse, but Abdu Rehim declined
absolutely. No one but himself might touch the precious
thing.

Dang-y-Dang and her puppies were given a compart-
ment to themselves on the train — a. fine big packing-case
high up on a camel’s back above the felts for the yurt. Snaps
and Tienshan ran on either side. At the head of the caravan
went Tomes, Lao Djao, and I with my cyclometer. On the
first evening we encamped on the wide slope running down
to the desert. It was a cold night, but it was the last of its
kind. Spring began in earnest after that. The second day
of our march was positively warm and the afternoon oppres-
sive, which was a violent contrast. Little eddying whirlwinds,
miniature windspouts, drove the dust up. Lao Djao told me
that in each of those whirlwinds was an evil spirit, the soul of a
wicked man. If you could get inside the whirlwind and lay
your cap over the core of it, you would get the evil spirit in
your power. What you were to do with it after that, I never
understood.

That evening we reached Kum-darya, the new river,
where I was to carry out some important place location and
other work. The name means Sand River. A few years
earlier there had been no water there, and the river bed was

DIPLOMACY AND LOP NOR 29

known as Kuruk-darya, the dry river; now it carried ii,ooo
gallons of water a second, forming a broad, wide river. It
was this that had brought about the change in the position
of Lop Nor.

We had intended to make a trip in a few months’ time to
the lake itself, but never got the opportunity. Now that we
are so- close to it, however, seems a suitable moment for a
brief account of the mysterious lake into which the mighty
Tarim river flows, and the problem of its shiftings.

Lop Nor lake has long constituted one of the most fas-
cinating of geographical problems. Maps prepared at con-
siderable intervals of time have shown it at widely different
places, and Ferdinand von Richthofen, the great German
geographer and philologist, put forward the explanatory
theory that the lake changes its position.

Richthofen had a devoted pupil in the person of the
young Sven Hedin, who was preparing with intensive energy
for his future work as an explorer. Even as a schoolboy he
showed extraordinary clearness of purpose, and when he
went to the university and heard Richthofen’s lectures, he
made up his mind that he would solve the Lop Nor problem.
Before long the young man was out in the eastern districts
of the Taklamakan desert, measuring the different levels of
the old river beds, and studying the Tarim river and the
lake into which it flowed. His answer to the problem was:
the lake has changed position. But this was not all. Sven
Hedin went a step further and prophesied in 1905 that the
phenomenon would be repeated. The Tarim river, continuing
its pendulum-like movements, would shift from the southern
tract through which it then flowed, and return to its course in
the north.

He was right. He was also fortunate enough to be him-
self the first to inform the scientific world that his prophecy
had come true. Naturally his expedition wanted to explore
the new lake. This plan, however, met with difficulties. The

KARAVAN

Governor-General of Sinkiang refused to allow any work
to be done in the Lop Nor district. In reply to our application
for permission to go there, Norin and I received the following
letter:

“ I have received your letter, and have perfectly under-
stood its contents.

“ Gentlemen, you have shown great enthusiasm for your
work, you have carried out geological investigations and
made many discoveries. I much appreciate your work, and
I understand that you now wish to take the routes to the
north and south of Thian Shan which you describe in your
letter, and that these journeys would represent the co-ordina-
tion of your different fields of work, and the consummation
of your task. This is truly excellent, and I shall be delighted
to afford you all the help that lies in my power.

“ There are, however, certain difficulties in connexion
with the routes you suggest. Should you decide to follow the
main road to Khotan instead, these would be entirely removed,
but Yti-li, Charkhlik and Charchan are not suitable places to
visit at present, for troops of brigands from Kansu are roving
along the frontier of Sinkiang. At Barkul, Kami and Lop Nor
even, the soldiers stand as thick as trees in a wood, and your
scientific work would be constantly disturbed. Even the
song of the birds and the soughing of the wind is enough to
alarm the soldiers and incite them to acts of violence. No
one therefore can assume responsibility for the safety of
travellers in these districts. The same applies to Altai, which
is overrun by wild hordes from Outer Mongolia. Conse-
quently you must not visit these places. On the other hand,
there would be no difficulty whatever in the way of a visit to
Bogdo Ula, Fukan, or Ku-cheng-tzu.

“ With kind regards,

“ Sgd.

“ Chin.”

Governor ‘General Chin outside his yamen at Urumtsi

Tomes in his working clothes

DIPLOMACY AND LOP NOR

3 *

It was obvious that he did not desire our presence at
Lop Nor. When he talks about soldiers standing as thick as
trees in a wood, one is apt to imagine an immense army,
but a wood in Chinese Turkestan generally means one tree
every fifty feet or more. The “ army ” that he described did
not therefore alarm us much, still less so as we knew quite
well that there were no soldiers at Lop Nor; there were no
human beings at all for many miles round.

Norin telegraphed to Hedin to explain the situation,
and the chief decided that the problem should be tackled
from the east instead.

HOrner was instructed to set out westwards from Suchow
with the Chinaman Chen to investigate the new lake. It was
a difficult task, but he accomplished it brilliantly. I well
remember when Norin and I received the letter from Sven
Hedin describing their journey. “ That is the finest thing
that has been done on the whole expedition, that is the real
Hedin spirit,” said Norin, who was wild with excitement.

What had HSrner done that was so remarkable.? He
had gone by camel from the east through the desert straight
up to Lop Nor. But it was not simply desert. In places they
had to travel over salt-encrusted ground as hard as glass, full
of crystals that cut through the shoes of the men and the
feet of the animals. Every evening they had to tie up the
camels and sew leather soles over the pads of their feet, to
make it possible for them to go on at all. The tracks of the
caravan were red with blood ; they had no water for fourteen
days. But they got there.

HOrner went round the lake, mapped it and made his
geological observations, and set out on the homeward journey.
That frightful desert had to be crossed again, but it was many
times more difficult now, for to lack of water and firing had
been added lack of provisions. In spite of illness and severe
hardship, thanks to a will of iron and a well-trained physique,
thanks to the skilful help of the Chinese geodesist, Parker

KARAVAN

Chen, thanks to self-sacrificing and courageous servants, he
made his way back.

Hbrner and his companions not only accomplished the
journey there and back — they did it all so quietly that they
did not “ alarm ” a single soldier.

Herdsmen, however, soon discovered the tracks of the
caravan and reported to the Governor-General at Urumtsi:
“ Sahib has been to Lop Nor, in spite of the prohibition.”

The next time Norin went to Urumtsi and called on its
noble Governor, the latter said to him with some annoyance:
“ Sir, you have dared to go to Lop Nor in spite of my pro-
hibition!” — “ Certainly not,” Norin answered. He had actually
had the foresight, with almost feminine intuition, to have his
passport stamped in every town he had been through, and
thus had irrefutable proof that he had been in quite different
places at the time in question. The Governor-General ex-
amined the document, grew embarrassed and apologized
profusely; there had evidently been a mistake. ‘‘Yes, people
do talk so,” said Norin. The ridiculous idea that anyone
could have gone to Lop Nor from the east never even occurred
to the worthy Chinese.

Norin, however, knew very well who had been to Lop
Nor. He also knew from the letters he had received that
several matters remained to be dealt with there. And Norin
was not merely a clever man; when he wanted, he could be
positively deep.

He set off joyfully with a camel caravan by the direct
road to Lop Nor, without giving a thought to the soldiers,
the song of the birds or the soughing of the wind. He carried
out his investigations at his leisure — ^although once more
under difficult climatic conditions — ^returned to Urumtsi,
and went to see the Governor-General.

Of course there had been more reports. ‘‘ Sahib has
been to Lop Nor in spite of the prohibition.” But this time
His Excellency did not appear so annoyed. He said smil-

DIPLOMACY AND LOP NOR

ingly: “ Yes, I have had reports again, but people talk so
much, I didn’t pay any attention to them.”

It was very obliging of him.

The last chapter in the saga of the extraordinary shifting
of Lop Nor was written by Sven Hedin himself. He went
back, while war was raging and the waves of fanaticism ran
sky-high, in his seventieth year to that desolate but fascinating
tract, and completed his scientific work, among other things
making a map of the new river with its thousand bends.

Viking of modern times, Sweden is proud of you.

CHAPTER VI

An Evening at Kara-koshun

W HILE Norin and I were travelling round the central
and southern districts of Kuruk-tagh, we left jny
excellent Russian assistant, Pavel Vorotnikoff, at Shindi, the
home of Abdu Rehim, carrying out meteorological observa-
tions which were of inestimable value to us, and enabled our
calculations of height to be many times more accurate.

When April came, we had to begin to think of the return
journey. Our passports for the Kuruk-tagh district expired
on the 4th May. The three of us met at Nanshan-bulak,
“ The Spring of the Southern Hills ”, and from there Norin
swung round towards Atmish-bulak and so northwards, while
Vorotnikoff and I went together direct to the north. We
were all three to meet again in the district south of Turfan.

Our first march brought us to a stretch of reedy plain-
land known as Kara-koshun, on which stood the simple house
of Selim Bakhi, a white-bearded ancient with an immense
family. He was himself to guide us farther on our way and
show us the springs along the route. Being an old hunter
— like his kinsman Abdu Rehim — ^he was well qualified to
do so.

He ordered his sons to kill a sheep in our honour, and
VorotnikoflF and I were ceremonially invited to the feast.

We set off in the dusk for the low house, taking the
gramophone with us and a few records. On our arrival, I
smuggled Vorotnikoff away to one of the windows to open
the gramophone and put on a record, choosing one that ran
for some time before it began to play. Just as we got inside

AN EVENING AT KARA-KOSHUN 35

the house, the record started. The people had already heard
tales of our strange black box that was so musical, and now
it was carried in and duly admired; even the women of the
household were present.

It is very rarely that one sees respectable women unveiled,
but these people were so poor that they probably simply
could not afford such luxuries as veils. After we had played a
few records on the gramophone, Selim Bakhi, Ibrahim — ^his
son-in-law — ^and one of the daughters, the well-grown Sainep
Chan, went out. A little later they came back, and Ibrahim
explained that since Sahib (I) had shown them such kindness,
they wanted to offer us something of the same sort in return,
and so the musical instruments were brought out: drums,
dotars, rawaps, tingeltangels, and even castanets. Seven of
the young people took part, sitting in a long row and led by
Ibrahim at the extreme left. Most of them both played and
sang. Then came the great surprise.

A space was cleared in the middle of the floor, and on it
was spread a white Kirgha felt rug, beautifully thick and
soft. Sainep Chan put on a funny knitted cap, pulled off her
boots, and began to dance in her bare feet. She was dressed
in a simple, full, ankle-length chapan of dark-red, hand-woven
stuff, and she had no other ornaments than her long plaits of
shining dark hair, which fell heavily almost to the ground
as she danced, and a small blue iris stuck in under the cap
above her left ear.

That dance was one of the most beautiful things I have
ever seen, so simple but at the same time delicate and exactly
harmonizing with the music. I suppose it was the spontaneity
of the child of nature that made such a deep impression.

At the end of the dance she came forward and made me
a graceful obeisance. In the corner over by the hearth stood
her father and mother glowing with pride at their fine daughter,
while they shifted the embers nearer to the large pan of pilau.

The little girls peeped out with shining eyes from their corners
(F «02) 4

KARAVAN

and wondered whether this was real courtship or whether it
was merely a game!

The light was magical; it came from two small iron bowls,
or ckeraghi filled with oil. They have a lip in which the wick,
of twisted cotton, lies and burns with a yellow, smoky flame.
The smoke formed into fantastic shapes, and the shadows of
the pillars and beams danced as the flames flickered. Each
cheragh stood on a stand the height of a man, made in a
simple geometrical pattern and covered with a dark patina
from the oil drippings and fallen soot.

VorotnikofF, who knew the Turki customs, whispered to
me to tuck a note under the edge of her cap as a sign of my
approval. I did so, reflecting meanly that for once it was
just as well they printed their paper money in values of i
Hang (about ninepence at that time).

She took the money with glee, stuffed it into her bosom
and danced again. The same flowing movements, never
twice alike, the same gracefulness and true womanly loveliness.
It ended with a pirouette, and she made her obeisance to
VorotnikofF. A nod of consent, he took a Hang from my
pocket unnoticed and tucked it under her cap with a few
pleasant words. Everyone went wild with delight, and Ibrahim
went round the whole company with his drum, singing:

Chong Sahib, the tall, has given a liang,

Kichik Sahib, the small, has given a liang,

Give a trifle too.

A great heap of copper coins with square holes in them
was showered on the drum, which he kept vibrating the whole
time.

When we came out into the open air, it had cleared and
the night was extremely beautiful. In the camp a low moan
was rising from the cooking quarters, where I^o Djang lay
writhing because he had nui out of opium; he had terrible
pains in the stomach and could not sleep. Normally he was a

AN EVENING AT KARA-KOSHUN

bright and cheery fellow, but he was useless now and unfit
for any work. He had had to be brought here on one of the
camels, green in the face and rolled up like a bundle, and
the same would have to be done again to-morrow. When we
reached Arpishme-bulak, he hoped to get his store replenished.
I gave him ten drops of my opium extract, as I had done on
the previous evening, and it may have eased his pain a little.
I was sorry for him but angry with him too. Hummel had
broken him of this miserable habit once — ^why did he want
to start it again } And he was the very best of the servants we
had left.

Tomes had just left us. He had to go back to his master
in Kara-shahr, the Grand Lama Sin Chin Gegin Khan, to
accompany the embassy that was to be sent to Peiping to
fetch the bride of the young Mongol prince. My diary says:
“ Tomes is leaving — ^unfortunately. He was a good cook,
a strong and useful man, and a pleasant companion.’’ I had
no notion then that nine months later I should have him
with me again, and that he was to become the veteran of all
my servants, not to be parted from me until we reached
smiling Kashmir.

CHAPTER VII

The Hurricane at Bejan-tura

S ALIM BAKHI had piloted us through the hills. We had
crossed the depression of Arpishme-bulak. Lao Djang
had got his longed-for opium, and a few forced marches had
brought us through the hilly district south of the Turfan
valley. We pitched our camp at one of its lowest points,
Bejan-tura, on the reed-covered salt steppe which borders the
slopes of the Sai to the south.

Bejan-tura was to me a particularly interesting place.
Its position in one of the most remarkable areas of depression
on the earth’s surface, with the towering mountains of Thian
Shan to the north and the Kuruk-tagh chain to the south,
means that extreme conditions can be expected there both
with regard to gravity and meteorological phenomena.

The force of gravity is determined by means of gilded,
half-second pendulums of bronze or invar, suspended on
agate edges. The time the pendulum takes to swing is de-
termined with the utmost precision. By taking into account
all such sources of error as variation in temperature, pressure,
humidity, the varying stability of the ground, &c., and by
using the most exact methods of measurement, it is possible
to obtain results accurate to such an unimaginable figure as
one ten-millionth of a second.

The instruments must, of course, be most carefully pro-
tected during the measurements. That is why I had a large
yurt, instead of a small teiit like Norin. Inside the yurt
was a rectangular tent for the pendulums, made of felt like

the yurt and lined with cotton cloth for protection against

The magnificent camp of the Grand Lama Sm Chin Gegin Khan
The photograph was taken by himself

approach Bejan-tura

THE HURRICANE AT BEJAN-TURA 39

the dust, and inside that were the pendulums in a glass case,
covered with two protective casings of leather. Beside this
tent stood my wireless apparatus, specially constructed for
me by a well-known expert, with which I could hear the
time signals from Bordeaux, Nauen and Rugby. There were
also chronometers, barometers, thermometers and various
other instruments.

Long ago there had been people living at Bejan-tura, for
it had a ruined house, and beside the spring was a trough, a
hollowed-out tree trunk, from which the animals used to
drink.

The yurt was ready, and all the apparatus set up. The
meteorological station was on a small hill just beside us, and
Vorotnikoff’s tent at the foot of it.

The heat was oppressive, so that the air quivered above
the sand. At two o’clock in the afternoon I took the time
signal from Bordeaux — the one we hear in Sweden at nine
o’clock in the morning. Then I took the readings of the
pendulums, and all the other instruments one after the other.
Time passed, and it was nearly four o’clock, when the Rugby
time signal was due. I went to read the barometer just before
it came through. What in the world? I must have made a
mistake ! No, I was right. The barometer had fallen a quarter
of an inch since the last reading half an hour before. Had
the instrument had a knock, or what could have happened?
I rushed over to Vorotnikoff to compare it with his barometers.
They too had fallen in the same way. Suddenly it dawned on
me what was happening.

This was not the first time I had been in the Turfan
depression. A year before I had experienced a terrible storm
only a few miles away from the spot we were in.

Of course another storm was on the way now. Rather
than run the risk of having our valuable instruments damaged,
I decided to pack everything up. Lao Djang and a few of
the others who were about lent a hand — normally I did

KARAVAN

everything myself, but this time every minute counted. I
had heavy packing-cases placed round the walls of the yurt
outside, and strong ropes thrown over the roof of it and
fixed down as well as might be. All loose objects were packed
away. The meteorological station was fastened down by
means of ropes running criss-cross and fixed to long tent
pegs, which were driven firmly in. The place resounded
with the blows of hammers on the massive iron tent pegs.

We went round to see that everything was in order. Over
to the west lay a bank of cloud — quite low — ^threateningly
black; otherwise the sky was gloriously clear and hardly a
breath of air stirring.

It is a horrible sensation, that calm before the storm.
Everything is quiet save only for a distant rustling sound.
Yet you feel as though your chest were being pressed in,
and every face is drawn. A Kara buran^ the black hurricane, the
desert hurricane, the terror of every caravan, is drawing near.

It was still warm, almost hot, but we had got out our
fur coats, and Vorotnikoff had already put his on. He knew
what was coming, we all knew. The anemometer was firmly
nailed to a stout pole. We had not long to wait; the cloud
was drawing closer, it seemed to stretch right up into the
sky. The dogs had gathered together in a sheltered corner
of the ruined house beside the camp. Did they know in-
stinctively that that house was safer than the tent?

All at once the wind rose. Vorotnikoff began his notes.
Another gust, then calm again. Then it broke loose in earnest.
Everywhere had suddenly grown dark with the sand that
whirled up and blotted out the sky. This was no storm, it
was a tornado. The sand and wind drove and tore in every
conceivable corner. The strain on the tent was terrific.

The velocity of the wind had gone up by leaps and bounds;
it began at ten miles an hour, then went up to sixty, and then
to more than the instrument could record. It was still increas-
ing. What was going to happen ?

THE HURRICANE AT BEJAN-TURA 41

We sat in a row inside the yurt, crouching together, and
awaited events. The felt rugs that covered the roof were
pretty worn, and in one place you could see daylight through
one of the folds, where it had come in for constant rubbing
during transport.

Bang! It had given way. A hole appeared the size of a
child’s head — but it was enough. The wind at last got a
purchase. It was like an explosion. The cloth was torn to
ribbons, and the strips whisked and lashed about. A few of
the long poles that held the roof-truss snapped.

VorotnikofF had kept coming in to report what was going
on outside. The last time he came in creeping on all fours.
It was impossible to stand upright any longer out of doors.

More and more of the poles snapped — obviously unless
something was done the whole tent might collapse at any
moment. Four men crept over to the ruined house, where
I had noticed a beam, and we dragged this into the yurt to
help hold up the roof-truss. Of course there was no knowing
whether it would do any good, but it seemed worth trying.
We got it up, but just at that moment a number of poles
snapped. I roared to Lao Djang and Lao Djao to go out
with some of the strongest of the men and try to hold on to
the ropes, while the rest of us inside pushed two large packing-
cases into the centre of the floor and laid the beam across them,
and the remaining poles at right angles to that in a bundle.
Then we let down the roof-truss on to the cross thus formed,
just as the remaining poles gave way. Of seventy, only six
were left. All my instrument cases were standing on the
ground, and I prayed they might escape damage.

We sat shivering in our long fur coats while the furious,
freezing, frantic wind raged on. Hour after hour we waited
vainly for any sign of its abating.

Not until seven o’clock next morning did the storm
begin to slacken. The rain of sand stopped, and it grew
light.

4 *

KARAVAN

Of the four tents, one remained, VorotnikofTs. The
cook-tent, which was relatively new, had been split in two.
We had been so proud of our fine aluminium pots and pans,
so easy to keep clean — ^if you wanted to— and so light. We
wished now that they had been good old-fashioned copper
or iron. They had blown clean away, and even the packing-
case into which they had been neatly packed had vanished.
We searched for them in vain; they must have been carried
for miles. The yurt was simply a pile of splinters and rags.

The meteorological station had a list to port, but it was
still standing. The recording instruments had gone on function-
ing until about five o’clock in the morning. They had stopped
then because the pens could no longer move through the
thick sand that had percolated in, even through the glass
covers.

. Our servants looked like a group of ancient mummies.
It was impossible to distinguish one from another. All the
lines and characteristic features of their faces were plastered
over with sand, and all that seemed alive in these yellow-grey,
corpse-like masks was a pair of red, inflamed eyes. In this
respect caution was necessary. The handfuls of sand that we
scratched out of our eyes might easily have carried some
infection, and now when the whole eye was a mass of little
cuts, any infection would have been particularly active and
dangerous, so I put some drops of argyrol into everybody’s
eyes.

The worst disaster happened to the animals. The camels
had thinned off recently, and to help with the transport we
had hired twenty sturdy donkeys, which were owned and
looked after by a Tungan and his fifteen-year-old son. The
father had gone in to Turfan on some private business on the
day before the storm, and was not expected back until the
following morning. The boy had been alone with the animals.
1 had forgotten all about him — probably thought that Lao
Cheng, the dry old Chinaman who was our head camel boy.

THE HURRICANE AT BEJAN-TURA

would have kept an eye on him. But such was not the case.

We soon found the boy. He was lying among the remains
of the kitchen-tent, weeping uncontrollably. What’s the
matter? Up with you! Where are the animals? Where are
the donkeys ? A gesture out to the open was the only answer.
They were gone. Not all of them; three remained.

Under cover of that raging storm and impenetrable dark-
ness, undeterred by the cold that petrified us, some hungry
wolves had made their way to the camp. Just beyond the
enclosure where our camels were tied up for the night lay
the mangled corpses of three donkeys. When the herd was
rounded up at last — they managed to find all the remaining
seventeen — two others were found to have been attacked.

In our happy childhood’s days we learnt to love the wolf
in the wonderful tale of Mowgli. But Akela, the big grey
Lone Wolf, and the tender parents of the jungle boy, have
little in common with the wild beasts that forage in the hills
and deserts of Chinese Turkestan.

CHAPTER VIII

A Severe Temptation

H OW was I to get to my pendulum station now? Luck
was with us in our misfortune, and the ruined house
offered a solution to the problem. We dug out the sand
which had collected there in the course of years, and made
one of the “ rooms ” fit for use. It had no roof, but the felts
from the yurt and the remains of our tattered tents provided a
substitute. I made my observations there, and welcomed
Norin there on the 20th April.

“ How did you get on the day before yesterday?” was of
course the first question. He had been up in the hills and had
a good deal of wind, but nothing at all unpleasant. Norin
is a wise fellow. He never lets himself in for any standing
long-jumps or other such adventures. In addition he has a
lucky star, and almost always comes unscathed through any
cataclysms of nature.

The evening before we left Bejan-tura, Norin, Vorotnikoff
and I lay in my former pendulum room and told each other
ghost stories. The storm was howling outside again, giving
the correct, sinister atmosphere, and Vorotnikoff told us an
amusing tale. There were no ghosts in it, at any rate no evil
ones, but it had its points none the less.

He had been the previous year at Chik-tam, not far from
where we now were, working at one of Dr. Haude’s many
meteorological stations. His thorough knowledge of the
Turki language and perfect acquaintance with their customs
made him popular among the people there. He had also

A SEVERE TEMPTATION

been Hummers assistant for some time, and had acquired a
fair amount of medical lore. But he had noticed that a little
knowledge of human nature was often of far more usd than
having the whole pharmacopoeia at your finger-tips, and he
put his knowledge into effect and became a great “ medicine
man ” in the district.

One day a solemn deputation arrived at his tent, which
was pitched in the courtyard of a caravanserai. The deputa-
tion consisted of the white-bearded Abdu Rachman Ak-sakal,
the village elder, Sherip molla, the priest, and a few more of
the local leaders of society. In accordance with the dictates
of polite usage, they sat down in a ring in front of the tent,
and tea was served and imbibed in silence. The bowls were
refilled by the watchful little Turki who acted as waiter.
Vorotnikoff, as the well-bred host, said nothing, but con-
tented himself with putting at least five lumps of sugar in
every bowl, which is the essence of politeness and, even if it
does not taste good, shows great respect and is appreciated
accordingly.

Then conversation was opened. It was established, little
by little, that Vorotnikoff was in excellent health and his
guests also, that the weather was fine to-day but yesterday’s
storm had been severe, and “ we hope that Allah — ^praised
and glorified be his holy name — ^will grant us sun and warmth
again to-morrow ”. After this had gone on for a while, a general
silence fell, until the Ak-sakal took his courage in both hands
and began to explain the errand on which they had come.
It was indeed a delicate one.

Vorotnikoff had already been there two months, and he
had not yet chosen himself a spouse. This was much to be
regretted. It was due, of course, to the fact that the exemplary
young man had not sufficient courage, and so they had come
to give him a helping hand.

“ Our old molla,” said the Ak-sakal with a gesture towards
his friend, who laid his hand on his heart, “ has a large family.

KARAVAN

His sons are strong, and wield the hoe and the spade with the
well-directed energy that characterizes the good farmer. His
daughters are the flowers of his garden, and among them are
both peaches and poppies, all of the same gentle loveliness,
the same soft curves. Their virtuous mother is plump and
beautiful. With such a father ” — another gesture, similarly
answered — ** they will undoubtedly grow into similarly fruit-
ful ornaments for whoever is happy enough to plant them in
his garden. As you, noble sir, are without parents or kinsmen
or friends who might mediate for you in the matter of winning
a desirable bride, we have decided to come to your assistance
in the diflicult dilemma in which you are undeservedly
placed.

“In consideration of the great services which, with never-
failing interest and invariable generosity and self-sacrifice,
you have rendered us and our friends, Sherip molla has
decided to present his youngest daughter to you as a worthy
gift.”

Vorotnikoff is clever, and far better versed in flowery
language than were the worthy gentlemen who honoured
his tent with their presence. He replied :

“ Wisdom flows from your lips. Your venerable beard,
your furrowed cheeks, tell me that you have reached the age
at which no word ever passes your lips that has not been
weighed in the wisdom of your mind. Only the fool trusts
blindly to his foolish heart.

“ Sherip molla’s name is known and honoured. Every
man who values wise advice hears his opinion before he takes
a decision. His wife is a wise man’s wife, his children are
precious jewels the likes of which are not easily found. His
house is rich. The humps of his camels are always higher
than those of others. The wool from his sheep is the softest.
The apricots from his trees yield the kernels which no well-
spread guest-table can be without.

“ Your kindness is great, greater than the desert, greater

A SEVERE TEMPTATION

than your beard 1 Your words are wise and well-considered.
My heart is already warmed at the thought of the great happi-
ness which is in store for it.

“ Yet reverence for old age and the ties of a promise —
hard and bitter fate — compel me to renounce this undeserved
favour. When I left my parents’ home, my white-haired
grandmother exhorted me saying:

“ ‘ You are young and inexperienced. The choice of
woman is a mystery not given to man, least of all to one who
is as young as you. When the time comes for you to take to
yourself a wife, I as the head of the family will arrange the
matter for the family’s best.’

“ You will readily understand that I cannot therefore
act as my heart tempts me to, but must obey the command
which the Almighty has directed me to bear in mind.”

Flattered and not in the least offended at the refusal of
his offer — the reason was the best imaginable, and the words
that had been spoken about his house would be carried far,
to judge from the number of listening heads in the bright
sunshine outside the door — the molla replied:

” The wisdom of your words and the reverence of your
thoughts far exceed what is usual among the youth of these
parts. May the maiden chosen by the Ancient One become
the star of your happiness. May she light your path and be
your obedient slave, and the stern castigator of your children
for their good. And now let us return our humble ways,
remembering your fair words with gratitude. Salaam aleikum
— ^Peace be with you ” — “ Aleikum salaam — ^With you be
also peace!”

But with us there was certainly no peace that night.
Norin suddenly said: “Was that something scratching out-
side?” We all three lay and listened. Yes, there it was again.
We each had a pocket lamp beside our beds. Three beams
of light played along the bare walls, and there we had the

4 »

KARAVAN

disturber of bur peace — a scorpion. Vorotnikoff caught it with
a pair of tweezers, and it was soon lying in a bottle of spirits,
in company with snakes and other vermin, while we pulled
our sleeping-bags up over our heads — and dreamt of our
wise grandmothers.

CHAPTER IX

Spring Idyll. Back in Urumtsi

W E moved west towards Urumtsi, following the line at
which the slope of the Sai joins the flat plain, heavily
encrusted with salt, which forms the bottom of the Turfan
depression. For the first day’s march we all kept together,
and passed a number of old grave-mounds, presumably from
the Stone Age. After that Norin and VorotnikoflF and the
whole camel train took a little-used short cut, while I went
round by Toksun and Turfan and thence along the main
road. Almost every day we had severe storms. Our eyes
ached. The sand gritted between our teeth as we ate. It was
terribly trying at times.

The instruments and other baggage I had on two large,
two-wheeled carts called Goldegodong-arabas, drawn by four
horses, three of which are simply draught-horses, while the
fourth guides and draws the cart. The vehicle has been
given that resounding name on account of a massive brass
bell with a heavy tongue which hangs below the axle-tree
and rings an incessant gol-de-go-dong.

The Tiu-ki love of music is not the only reason for
their taking these enormous bells on their journeys. When
there is a raging storm and visibility is reduced to five or ten
steps, the head driver, the arhakesh, does not walk beside his
cart, but takes the yoke-line in his hands and walks in front
of the animals, listening to the bell of the cart in front of
him. Consequently in bad weather one will often see long
caravans of carts, with someone walking at the head who is
well acquainted with the road and can find his way even

KARAVAN

under difficult conditions. The landmarks he uses are hardly
noticeable to a European. He has an inborn sense of direction
that we may well envy him, but which is compensated by the
ability, which the native in his turn envies us no less, to read
and draw a map with the help of a compass.

At Daban-cheng a river cuts through the mountain range
of Chargu2>tagh, carrying water from the topmost peaks of
Bogdo Ula down to the Turfan depression. Strangely enough,
the water from the melting of the glaciers north of the highest
peaks also flows southwards.

I had long ago settled upon Daban-cheng as a suitable
place for measuring the Bogdo peaks. We encamped there-
fore at a spot which had a clear view northwards, and I started
my measurements immediately, interrupted every now and
then by storms. On the afternoon of the 30th April, 1930,
I finished my work, and wandered down to the camp. I had
been lucky — the peaks were already hidden again by clouds
of sand driven up by the strong wind. In the evening the
wind dropped again, however, as suddenly as it had risen,
and we had a glorious night.

A pleasant fragment of our life is recorded in my diary
for that day;

“ Welcome, Spring! Sad to say, I cannot greet you with
any May blossom, but I saw a bouquet on the road to-day
which must have been meant for you, perhaps also for a
Swedish traveller. It was golden-yellow taraxacum and sky-
blue iris, standing glowing in their beauty and nodding on
a green patch in the middle of the desert.”

On the 3rd May we encamped at Chi-Chi-Tsao, a little
retreat a few miles from Urumtsi. That evening I sat and
meditated on the future and the past, and my thoughts were
reflected in my diary thus:

“ To-morrow we shall be back in Urumtsi. It is rather
exciting to get back. Not that we shall have any real rest
there, and strangely enough we do not feel the need of it.

Sky-blue iris

The burgomaster Ma-hsien-kuan

SPRING IDYLL. BACK IN URUMTSI 31

although we have had a strenuous time — ^particularly latterly
with between four and six hours* sleep. It is funny that one
can make up for sleep with food, at any rate to some extent.
There is nothing like three eggs and a few juicy beef-steaks
at five o’clock in the morning. Apropos of food, it will be
marvellous to get potatoes again! I only hope I shall not
catch any illness. We come from places where everything
is clean, or rather where the dirt is clean, straight into this
horrible cesspool of filth, the chosen city of intrigues. Ugh!”

I arrived about twelve o’clock on the 4th May, the
very day my visa for travelling in Kuruk-tagh expired. Norin
had arrived the day before me.

(!«(«)

■

CHAPTER X

A Chinese Dinner. CJi ing-cli ih-fanl

U RUMTSI again. A, sharper contrast to the life we had
been living for the last few months can hardly be
imagined. Visits and dinners, entertainments of every de-
scription, all the time. Norin was bored, but I, being a sociable
animal, found it enjoyable, at first. Who would not want to
go to a real Chinese dinner

But it must be remembered that we were not in Peiping
or Nanking. The refined manners and exquisite food cus-
tomary in these places are not to be found in Sinkiang. What
would the tender greens of early spring look like, for example,
after an eight months’ journey through the desert? Few of
the many things necessary for the perfect Peiping dinner
are obtainable in Urumtsi. A great many of the ingredients
come from the sea, whereas only dried things can be brought
here. Still, our excellent Chinese cook Ta-tse-fu always man-
aged, with the resources at his disposal in this out-of-the-way
place, to prepare a tempting dinner.

One day a well-dressed Chinese servant was sent to us
by the burgomaster of Urumtsi, Ma-hsien-kuan, who was
showing his kindly interest in the Hedin expedition by invit-
ing me to be the guest of honour at a dinner party. The
man carried a case containing a document about eighteen
inches long and six inches wide, inscribed with exquisite
gold lettering on red paper. The writing begins at the right-
hand top corner, and runs downwards. First comes the name

of the place and the date. The host has chosen this day for

A CHINESE DINNER

his banquet because friendly stars have shown him that it is
a lucky day for his guests.

Then comes the invitation itself. “ In your honour I
have had my glasses thoroughly washed,” and there follow
the names of those who are invited, in order of rank. This
list is carried round to all of them in turn, and each writes
his reply beside his name, such as “ Accepts with thanks ”,
and his signature. There is no need for anything more. Some-
times the reply will be longer, such as the perfectly correct
form of refusal: “ Unfortunately I expect to be ill on Thurs-
day and cannot therefore accept your immensely kind invi-
tation.”

On the Thursday afternoon the same servant returns and
with a polite bow issues the reminder: “ To-day my master
awaits the great privilege of receiving you as his highly
honoured guest.” This reminder is obligatory, and is gen-
erally given one hour before the time appointed for the dinner.

The mafa., or high, two-wheeled, springless carriage with
its colourful and scrupulously clean body of dark-blue silk,
arrived for me, and Lao Djang, my interpreter and servant,
helped me up. I sat cross-legged above the axle-tree and
jolted along, well concealed from the eyes of the curious.
When we stopped, Lao Djang reappeared with a little pair
of steps to help me down, and then took my large, elegantly
inscribed visiting-card and held it in front of him with both
hands on a level with his forehead, so that everyone could
see who was coming as we made our dignified entry.

Ma met me at the first of the three great gates. We
greeted one another in the Chinese manner by bowing three
times in silence and raising our clasped hands solemnly to
our brows, and then moved together to the next gate. As
etiquette demands, I stood back there for Ma to go through
first, but he answered with a gratified but firm gesture of
refusal, “ After you,” and I led the way. The same ceremony
was repeated at the next gate, and likewise at the door which

KARAVAN

finally led us into his residence. Inside we bowed to each
other again, inquired how we did, and so on. As I was the
guest of honour, I arrived a few minutes late, and the others
were already assembled.

The master of ceremonies, a decorous old servant with a
pompous manner, read out the first name on the invitation
list. I advanced, and the smiling Ma motioned me into the
next room, in which was a round table laid for twelve persons.
The host was placed nearest the door, and the guest of honour
opposite him; the places close to and beside the host are the
least honourable. The table was laid with a simple white
cloth, no flowers or other decorations, only the dinner service.
This consisted of small round porcelain plates, something like
our European ashtrays. Beside each plate lay the inevitable
porcelain spoon and the two chopsticks of precious ivory
inlaid with beaten silver. In front was a jade goblet, and at
the side were little silver bowls full of salted almonds, earth
nuts, and sunflower seeds. These taste delicious, and the
inexperienced foreigner may be tempted to eat a lot, but
after a little while he is consumed with a terrible, raging
thirst which must be quenched. And the only drink to be
had is warm brandy. The whole idea of those salted almonds
is to increase the guests’ alcohol consumption, as it is reckoned
much to the credit of the host if his guests get cheerful.

Ma took my goblet in both hands, raised it to his fore-
head, and set it down again in its place. I stood beside him
and responded to his attention by also raising my hands to
my forehead. He took my chopsticks and repeated the cere-
mony with them. Finally he took my high, four-legged
stool and set it straight. You sit with your feet hooked into
the crossbar between the legs, lest they should get cold on
the damp stone floor.

Then Ma turned to me, again raised his hands, and I
raised mine too in time with his to the same level. Raising
your hands to the level of your forehead means that the person

A CHINESE DINNER

you are greeting is greatly your superior. Raising them
merely to the level of your eyes means that you consider your-
self the equal of the other person. Merely to raise them to your
mouth means that the other person is of no account. It is easy
to tell your host’s opinion of you by his method of greeting.

The name of guest number two was called out. Hung-
teng-ko was led in by our host, who assured himself that his
goblet too was dazzlingly clean, raised his chopsticks to indi-
cate his pleasure at seeing his guest, straightened his stool,
that Hung might find it comfortable, and finally they bowed
three times again.

Tsa-ko-chang came next. While Ma occupied himself
with him, Hung-teng-ko and I began our part in the ela-
borate ceremonies. With an eloquent gesture I begged Hung
to be so kind as to occupy the place which Ma had assigned
to me, but which I asserted was a thousand times too dis-
tinguished for my insignificant person. Would not the illus-
trious Hung take pity on me and occupy the place which had
indeed been offered me with kind intentions, but which was far
beyond my simple and humble pretentions.? Hung replied
politely that Ma, by virtue of the wisdom which he, our
brilliant host, possessed, knew well that the blue-eyed flower
of the Occident, who was to-day an honoured and esteemed
guest in his house, was a sun that far outshone all the moons
he had invited in order to show off its brightness. And the
mere thought that he, the humblest of all the guests of the
occasion, should venture to occupy my place, was as far from
him as my prosperous homeland was remote from his poor
and miserable country.

Tsa-ko-chang had been introduced, and Ma was just
busy with his brother in office, Dju-ko-chang. I turned in-
stead to Tsa. “ Will you have the extreme kindness to occupy
this highly honourable place.? I have offered it in vain to
Hung-teng-ko, the wise and learned.” — ” His answer is
mine. The wise and learned Hung, as you so rightly call

KARAVAN

him, is infinitely superior to me in his exalted position and the
high repute of his family. If he has refused your most generous
and for him flattering offer, how should I, who only know a
fraction of the poetic symbols with which Hung, like our
much esteemed host, is familiar, how should I occupy the
place which Ma — the learned interpreter of a thousand
writings — ^has reserved for the pearl of wisdom who to-day
honours his house?” I resigned myself and spent my time
watching the gentlemen Hung and Tsa going through these
same formalities with each other and with their neighbours.
The leading in of the guests, which at first had proceeded
with slow dignity, continued at an ever-increasing speed as
their importance decreased.

At last we were ready. “ CKing-ch'ih-fanV — ^Please
begin I Everyone sat down in the place assigned him by the
** wise and learned Ma ”. A brass pitcher of brandy was
carried in, standing in a bowl of almost boiling water. The
goblets were filled, our host raised his and said “ kan pet ” —
empty your goblets — ^and we all tossed it down, afterwards
holding out our goblets upside down, to show that we had
really followed his instructions.

The first course was something in the nature of a salad.
A number of small dishes were placed on the table, four of
them containing different kinds of spinach, the others salt
tongue, salt ham, chicken cut into small pieces, different
kinds of seaweed, and so on. Everyone helped with his chop-
sticks to pile up the contents of the various small dishes in a
large bowl which stood in the centre. The host himself poured
gravy and vinegar over the mixture, and finally obliquely-
cut dice of so-called ” rotten ” eggs were dropped in. It was
a somewhat heterogeneous combination, but tasted quite
good. The eggs were particularly savoury.

Dish followed dish, from the European point of view in
wild disorder, with every now and then a sweet, followed
perhaps by fish again. Everything was eaten with the same

A CHINESE DlNNEE

chopsticks, all sauces and soups were sipped from the same
spoon. The food is so well cut up that one never has need
of a knife.

Someone has said: “ Only Frenchmen and Chinese eat
delicacies, and the Chinese eat nothing but delicacies.” Taste
is, of course, a highly subjective matter, and opinions as to
Chinese food are often diametrically opposed. But some of
their delicacies are undoubtedly of that degree of excellence
that there can be no two opinions about them. Among these
are consomm^ with dumplings, which are dropped in and
cooked up with the soup at table, in a copper utensil something
like a samovar; and above all steamed duck. That is the
climax of the whole dinner. It is brought in and placed in
front of the host, who nonchalantly “ carves ” it with his
chopsticks without looking at what he is doing. It is so tender
that it drops to pieces under the chopsticks, and it tastes like
a dream. Much of the subtlety lies in the sauce, which is
flavoured with mushrooms and has a glorious aroma. Another
delicious dish is crisp, sugared waterlily leaves, fried in deep fat.

Chinese ceremonial dinners with all their endless courses
are not expressly designed to still the pangs of hunger. The
idea is simply that the guests should have something pleasant
to occupy themselves with and something nice to put in their
mouths while engrossed in conversation. The drink is of very
low quality — but the quantity!

The last course of all is boiled rice, served in small indi
vidual bowls, often with some sweet syrup over it. Of all the
other dishes you can eat as much or as little as you please,
but the rice must be eaten up to the last grain, if you do not
want to offend your host. When everyone has finished, they
all get up together, say their thanks, bow, and go out, accom-
panied by the host as far as the outer gate, where the guests
stand in a half-circle round their host and bow. After that
they all go their separate ways amid loud and repeated eructa-
tions, to demonstrate their extreme satisfaction.

CHAPTER XI

Bogdo Ula — the Hill of God

N ORIN was ready on the 3rd July, 1930, and set oIF
happily on his journey southward towards Khotan.
On the 26th of the same month I went up to the Bogdo hills
to spend a month in the most beautiful part of all Sinkiang.
Vorotnikoff was detailed off to Chukur-chak to fetch a con-
signment of new instruments which were so delicate that,
they had been brought by hand the whole way from Sweden.

The heat in Urumtsi was terrible. Nor was it any better
on the first two days of our march, but the third day brought
us into a region of shady vegetation. We went higher and
higher, and the Kirghiz lent us strong oxen to help us over
the pass. On the 30th we reached the mountain slope, covered
with typical alpine flora, on which we were to set up our
headquarters.

In the absence of Vorotnikoff I had a fifteen-year-old
Russian boy, Sergei Botwin, to help me with the meteoro-
logical observations. He was a quick lad, and spoke fluent
Turki and a little Chinese in addition to his mother tongue.
He was full of ideas and always up to something. The first
thing he did was to spread a tale in the camp to protect us
against the too lively interest of the Kirghiz, who are given
to petty theft.

“ Sahib has in his yurt a dangerous abomination called

electricity, and there is another in the meteorological station

up on the hillside there. Only one who is anointed with a

special kind of precious oil can approach the magical thing

unhurt.” With eloquent gestures and lively imagination he

BOGDO ULA— THE HILL OF GOD

described the dangerous electricity to the listening Kirghiz
as a savage monster, a close relation to the Chinese dragon.
The comparison was both diplomatic and apt. The Chinese
identify their dragon with the lightning, and relate that the
dragons spend the winter dormant under the ice of the lakes.

We were working in idyllic surroundings. While the
pendulums were swinging, our servants would gather wild
strawberries and mushrooms down in the wooded glades
round the Taoist monastery, or climb up to almost inaccessible
rhubarb plants on the rock faces and bring home wonderful
juicy stalks. Every day I had freshly-made jam on my “ table ”.
Milk, cream and butter we got from the Kirghiz tent just
beside the camp. Thanks to the wonderful pasturage on the
hillsides, these products were excellent of their kind.

From the meteorological station we could see the sheep
being driven out to pasture early in the morning. All night
long they had lain close against each other to keep warm,
while the dogs, their faithful guardians, remained on the
watch to see that no wolf should get them during the dark,
silent hours when the people in the yurt were asleep. When
the sun rose above the horizon, the shepherd, dressed entirely
in skins, would come and drive out his flock, the animals
spreading out fanwise over the green carpet. The bright
colours were a joy to look at.

More beautiful even than the morning was a beautiful
evening. The view from the camp then was impressive to
the last degree. The topmost peaks in the eastern quarter,
covered with ice and snow, glittered in the last rays of the
setting sun, and the ice crystals and masses of snow reflected
the falling light with a strange splendour. The sun had by
that time long been hidden from us by the hills to the west.
Its light would fade from the peaks one by one until at last
only three majestic summits shone out above the enormous
range. The sun sank, and the mountain slopes that had
glittered white a moment before turned glowing red. The

KARAVAN

colours shifted every moment, until in the end a deep violet
shade gave way to the sombre blue of distance. Closer at hand
lay the soft green shadows of the dark, solemn woods and the
joyous emerald of the meadows. To the south-east the rugged
rocks of Maiashan towered towards the skies, too high for
any vegetation. To the north-east lay the oval lake, dark,
gleaming, almost black, like the eye of a cyclops. Yurts were
scattered here and there. A flock of sheep would be driven
home by its shepherd. From the monastery on the hillside
a column of smoke rose almost vertically. Soon the monks
would be assembled by the old, white-haired abbot for their
evening prayers.

Mountain-tops always exercise a magnetic attraction, and
I fell readily for the temptation to make a climb. Sagunduk
and Nogoman, two Kirghiz who had previously been em-
ployed, with their well-trained pack animals, by Dr. Haude,
acted as my companions. Four oxen and a few horses were
all we needed for the march to the foot of the mountains. We
crossed the river which feeds the monastery lake, and followed
a valley through the bottom of which ran another swift river.
On the second day we left the wooded regions below us, and
the flora became more and more sparse. Some of the plants
that did grow were all the more interesting. One in particular,
which the Kirghiz collected, possessed a remarkable quality.
If a man’s wife had no children and he gathered some of
these queer, grass-like flowers for her, infallibly one year
later she would have a son. 1 told this story to a friend in
Urumtsi who had been in Bogdo a few years before, and he
pointed to his little boy and said; “ Probatum est.”

Every day we toiled up with the theodolite to high pro-
montories, and little by little entered the details of the mon-
astery lake on the map. We pushed on nearer and nearer to
the siunmit, but the highest point we reached was 13,500
feet. From there we had a clear view over the peaks and
glaciers of the main mountain range. To reach the summit

/ had taken a photograph of their yurt on the way up

One of the Taoist monasteries of Bogdo

BOGDO ULA— THE HILL OF GOD 6i

itself would have needed a professional mountaineer with
full equipment of picks, axes, ropes, and so on, and with
proper guides. The Kirghiz could not help us here, as they
regard Bogdo Ula as a holy mountain which must not be
profaned.

On the way down we decided to climb a peak we had
already measured, about 12,600 feet high. It was a difficult
ascent, and at the end of it we were unlucky enough to have
bad weather, so that we could see nothing of what we wanted.
The whole view was obscured with clouds, and we had to
return to the valley, having climbed in vain.

It began to rain. The river became a raging torrent
covered with white crests. At dusk, in pouring rain, we
reached a Kirghiz tent, and rather than risk trying to get
down to the camp itself, another six miles farther on, we
decided to appeal to the hospitality of the Kirghiz. They
regarded us as guests sent them by the Lord, as the weather
was so bad, and received us with open arms. I had taken
a photograph of their yurt on the way up, and we had had a
little chat on that occasion; now we had plenty of time for
more. Altogether eight people slept that night in the little
yurt, not to mention some of the more delicate lambs and a
calf. It was crowded, but the atmosphere was happy. The
man killed a sheep, which his wife cooked while he sang us
songs and told us of their customs.

They live principally on milk in various forms. Bread is
the rarest delicacy to them, so is rice. In the autumn they
slaughter a few animals,* cut the meat in strips and hang it
to dry round the roof of the yurt, where it also gets a little
smoke from the fire. The milk they use to make diflFerent
kinds of cheese, which they soften in their tea during the
winter. Every household possesses a large wooden mortar
in which the brick-tea is pounded up, before being dropped
into boiling water. Salt and milk are added, and the mixture is
left simmering on the fire. The longer it draws, the better it is.

KARAVAN

In the winter the Kirghiz move to the valleys lower
down, where there is always good pasturage even during the
cold season. A heavy snowfall — such as frequently occurs
in March and April — may be a terrible misfortune to these
people. Occasionally whole tracts are covered with snow-
drifts many feet deep, and the animals can find nothing to
eat. If a storm comes then, the animals have little resistance
and the result is often disaster. But then, of course, the price
of meat goes up to double or more, and so the people get
some compensation for their losses.

Now and then the Kirghiz send a caravan down to Tsai-
Woa-Poo to fetch salt for their sheep. Without salt the meat,
and above all the fat, of the animals would not be of the high
quality of which the shepherds are so proud.

During the night wolves howled outside. They are
always about when the weather is stormy. At the request of
our hosts I fired a few shots with my Browning to frighten
them. The shepherds maintained that just the smell of gun-
powder was enough to keep them at a distance. The rain
went on deluging all night and again next day. About mid-
day a powerfully built Kirghiz came up to our tent. He
had climbed all the way from my camp to ask what they
were to do down there, and find out how we were. It is a
mystery to me how he made his way through the torrents,
though he was a tall, strong fellow and carried a staff. When
he came in to us in the yurt, he was so hot that his clothes
steamed. He sat for a while by the fire, drank a bowl of tea
and ate a piece of dried sheep’s meat, got his orders, and
then went back by the same dangerous way he had come,
without receiving any harm. It takes strength and courage
to do a thing like that, and the union of splendid physique with
unwavering determination is always an inspiring thing to see.

When the rain at length ceased, the streams fell almost
as quickly as they had risen, and we were soon able to return
to our own tents.

BOGDO ULA— THE HILL OF GOD 63

Another day, and we reached headquarters. Professor
Yuan joined us there, and we spent a few very pleasant days
working together. One day we paid a visit to the monks in
the monastery. It was an abode of peace and happiness. —
Now the beautifully laid-out edifices are razed to the ground,
and the monks driven out, perhaps killed, in the waves of
revolution that have swept over the country these last few
years.

The oldest of the monks, who kindly invited us to a
dainty meal, was a particularly fine type. He was a highly
educated man, who had known both social and political
success, but had retired to this place in his declining years.
It is said that the former Governor-General often used to
send for him to ask his advice and discuss religious problems
with him. He was dignified and handsome in appearance,
and his eyes shone with wisdom and kindness. He is a figure
one remembers with pleasure.

Yuan went back to his dinosaur remains, and the whole
of my camp was moved down to the foot of the hill, while
I myself paid a lightning visit to Urumtsi to arrange some
business affairs. My stay in Bogdo concluded with a journey
along the northern boundary of Thian Shan to Ku-cheng-tzu,
a monotonous stretch of country.

Traces of earlier habitation are frequent along the road:
ruined houses, overgrown fields, and dry, silted-up irrigation
canals. At the end of the last century there were serious
disturbances in this district — ^known as the Tungan rebellion.
The population of the province was decimated, and it is said
that people grew so mad with hunger that they ate their own
children. But the birth-rate is high in these parts, and a
healthy young generation quickly grows up after a tragedy
even of such dimensions.

Immigration from the east of China proper also took
place on a large scale. The province is large and rich, and
under peaceful conditions easily provides bread and shelter

KARAVAN

for anyone with enough adaptability — ^until another spark
is dropped in the gunpowder, and the flames of revolution
blaze up again.

Ever since 1932 the country has been the scene of bitter
struggles. A civil war is always horrible at the best of
times, but when religious fanaticism and racial hatred also
enter in, it becomes ten times worse, and the province
has suffered cruelly as the fortunes of war wavered between
the Chinese, the Turkis, the Tungans and the Kirghiz.

The Mongols have withdrawn among the hills and refuse
to give their support to any of the warring parties. Unfor-
tunately they have lost their foremost man, who died a victim
of treachery on the part of the Chinese Governor-General.
Sin Chin Gegin Khan would have been strong enough to
put down the rising that brought about the war, but the
opium-ridden Governor-General was not. He fled to the
East, where he is now repenting his faithlessness in a prison
cell.

The Mongol prince Sin Chin Gegin Khan.

CHAPTER XII

Difficulties

O N the 20th September we were back in Urumtsi. It was
a joy to see all the new instruments that VorotnikofF
had fetched from Chukur-chak, and now the thing was to
get ready quickly to set out on our journey southward. I
therefore called immediately at the Governor-Generars office,
where I hoped to see His Excellency in person to get a visa
for the journey to Khotan, but I was informed that he was
busy. They would let me know when he could receive me.

I was admitted on the 9th October. After the usual polite
formalities I brought up my request for a visa, reminded him
that we had discussed the matter before and that he had
promised to arrange it, and said that we were anxious to set
off as soon as possible. But I was met with a flat refusal. He
said he had received instructions from the Foreign Office
in Nanking to stop our work. I was completely taken by
surprise. I had guessed, of course, that something was wrong,
as I was kept waiting so long for an interview, but I never
thought he would go back on his promise.

The only hope of saving a situation like this is to be the
perfect diplomat and use all the proper “ flowers of speech
I did my best. I talked to him of Norin’s and my friendship
and of our work together, passed on to other subjects, spoke
of Bogdo and the old monk, showed him some photographs,
asked his permission to take his photograph. He consented.
He began to thaw a little, and brought up the question of

the visa again, only to emphasize that it was not his fault but

«e

KARAVAN

that he was acting on instructions from Nanking, which
prevented his permitting us to continue our work. .

In ordinary circumstances I rather shone at Chinese
polite conversation, but on this occasion my anger stifled my
imagination. It is not easy to be polite in terms of flowery
language when you are seething with rage. The Governor-
General was adamant. I was absolutely certain that the “ in-
structions from Nanking ” were his own private invention.
This was not the first time that the expedition had come up
against difficulties of his making, and as fate would have it,
not even Professor Yuan was there, who might have been
able to cope with the situation.

When I got home, I developed my photographs, went
for a short walk, and then, as I was not feeling well, went
early to bed. The next day Lao Djang thought me looking
so poorly that he went to fetch Pedashenko, a charming little
Russian doctor, who came and looked at me. He examined
my heart and lungs, my liver and kidneys, my conscience
and my spleen. He decided there was nothing much wrong
with any of them except the spleen, and told me I had jaundice.
I had always thought that people got jaundice from eating
too much rich food, but he said it might also be caused by
anger, and then I accepted his diagnosis. I had to stay a whole
month in bed.

It was to be a long time before I got clear of Urumtsi.
The difficulties of an expedition in Sinkiang are not merely
the difficulties of transport, the lack of water, the icy cold
and burning heat; very often the diplomatic complications
are the worst problem. Who was to believe that our interest
was purely scientific, without any political side-issues at all?

At last, however, a letter from Sven Hedin saved the
situation. Armed with this, I went back to the Governor-
General and told him I had had a letter from my chief which
might be of interest to him.

DIFFICULTIES

The Governor-General was not in the least interested,
but he was a Chinese and consequently very polite, so he
answered: “ It is extremely kind of you. I am immensely
interested in what Dr. Hedin has written. Would it be
troubling you too much to ask you to translate it for me.?”
I wanted nothing better and began immediately — not abso-
lutely word for word.

Dr. Hedin writes to reproach me severely for my laziness
and indolence. There you stay at Urumtsi simply amusing
yourself and going to theatres (terrible) and concerts (still
worse) or whatever else you may find to do, and absolutely
neglecting your work. All the other members of the expedi-
tion are working away in the field under conditions of great
hardship, making fresh discoveries every day and furthering
the advancement of science. What do you mean to do?”
I told the Governor-General that I intended to answer this
letter by explaining the true facts, namely that the chief was
very much mistaken if he thought I did not want to work.
I loved my work, but unfortunately the authorities of Sinkiang
were preventing my carrying out the investigations I wished
to make by simply refusing to give me a visa, and this in
direct opposition to the orders of the Nanking Grovernment.

“ But,” I continued, “ it has occurred to me that it might
possibly be inconvenient for Your Excellency if I laid these
facts before Dr. Hedin. If he began to spread it about in
Peiping that the Governor-General of Sinkiang was opposing
our expedition and disobeying Government orders, it is con-
ceivable that Your Excellency’s reputation might suffer ” —
the Chinese call it ” losing face ”.

“ That is why I brought the letter to show you, and ask
your advice about it.”

His Excellency looked at me from under his heavy eye-
lids with a shade of suspicion. Yes, it was true, that might
not be altogether desirable. He looked at me again. ” But,”
h^oeftM^»^it is a long time since we discussed this matter.

KARAVAN

and the political situation has changed considerably since
then. I think it might be possible for you to go down to the
Khotan district now.”

But I was not going to let him get out of it as easily as
all that. I had the upper hand now, and I replied: “ Yes,
Your Excellency, it is true that the political situation has
changed. But quite frankly I believe those parts are very
dangerous; the least little wind, the song of the birds, might
alarm the soldiers. It is not really safe for travellers. I think
I will write and make my excuses to Dr. Hedin all the same.
Do you not agree that that would be the wisest course for
me to take?” — “ Oh no, by no means,” he answered. “ I
assure you that it is quite peaceful and quiet there. My own
brother is in command of the troops in the Kashgar district,
and the discipline is excellent. No one travelling with a permit
from me would be in any danger, and if you will send in your
passport, I will see that it is attended to properly. You have
no cause for anxiety.” — “ Well, in that case, I wonder whether
I could start on Monday?” — “ Yes, certainly, but can I not
offer you another cup of tea? It is so seldom that I have the
opportunity of entertaining a member of your distinguished
expedition.” — “ It would be painful to my unworthy person
to occupy more of your valuable time. People are still waiting
in thousands to hear your wise words and obtain your sage
advice. Allow me therefore to take my leave at once, and
express my endless gratitude for the honour you have shown
me in listening to what I had to say.” — ” Good-bye. I lo
ping nan — May the palm of peace shade your path.”

CHAPTER XIII

In the Field Again

“ ^T^HE 5th February, 1931. Camp at Jetsedung. — 22* F.,

X firewood wet, storms in the night, and still it is
heavenly.”

Jetsedung was our first camp on the way to Khotan —
we had got away from Urumtsi at last. On the 19th we were
back again at our old camp on the southern shore of Lake
Tsai-Woa-Poo. Both the old and the new pendulums were
to be set up here, at the previous fixed points. The 1 9th was
a red-letter day, Sven Hedin’s birthday, and I chose that
date to present Lao Djang with the medal which Dr. Hedin
had obtained for him from King Gustav. He had once saved
the lives of some members of the expedition in a critical
situation, and this was his reward.

VorotnikoflF helped me make the yurt look festive. We
spread a white cloth over a packing-case, placed two candles
one at each end, laid Transhimalaya between them, opened
at Aron Jonasson’s fine portrait of Hedin, and set the
Swedish flag in front of the book.

Outside the boys had built up a great pile of twigs and
branches and made a huge beacon. Tomes, the Mongol,
who was with me again, sat at the cooking-stove with his
long pipe in his mouth, attending to the tea. Then we all
assembled inside. There were just twelve of us, so that the
whole zodiac was represented, and I sent a greeting from us
all to our sun, Hedin. He surely knew that our thoughts
were with him, in spite of the distance. Then I presented the
medal to Lao Djang, who received it with surprise and pleasure.

KARAVAN

Finally I showed them all the book which lay between the
candles. The pictures interested them immensely. One in
particular amazed them, taken on the journey when Sven
Hedin was trying to make his way to Lhassa in disguise. It
shows him in a shepherd’s costume, driving a flock of sheep.
Jamal achon, the arbakesh^ a powerful, black-bearded Turki,
thought our chief a very remarkable man. “ Just think,” he
said, ” at home he must have a large house, many wives,
excellent food, fine clean clothes, everything a man could
want. And yet he takes himself off to this land of dirt, goes
cold, hungry, sweaty, thirsty. He gets rid of his fine clothes.
He gives up his warm house for a draughty tent.” And last
of all, the thing that amazed him most: “ And he does not
even bring his favourite wife with him!”

In the evening we set light to the bonfire. The whole
thing was ablaze in a moment, and tongues of flame went
licking and flaring upwards. The faces around took on an
unreal look in the bright glare. Perhaps the others were like
me, and they too saw pictures in the flames, but for some
minutes I was far away.

The sky was overcast, the wind was in the east, and there
was nothing to protect the tent against it. As soon as the
fire died down, we went inside. Soon there was nothing to
be heard but the howling of the storm and the long rumble
of cracking ice.

• •••••*•••

The next day we broke camp. We made our way to Tok-
sun by partly unknown routes, and thence followed the main
road to Arghai-bulak. It is a bad road, as one can tell from
the native way of reckoning its length. From Su-bashi to
Arghai-bulak is 37 li (approximately 1 1 miles), but the natives
said it was 90 li. They do not measure distance direct in terms
of a unit of length, but by the time taken to make a journey,
or the difficulty of the road. Thus they will often give such
information as that the distance from Toksun to Su-bashi is

The camp on the southern shore of Lake Tsai-Woa-Poo

Through deep-cut valleys almost devoid of vegetation

IN THE FIELD AGAIN ^x

70 H, but from Su-bashi to Toksun is only 50. In the latter
case the road is downhill.

On the 7th March we reached the Mongol town of
Kara-shahr. The fording of the river which bears the name
of the town proved more difficult than we had expected.
The stream was both wide and deep, and there had been a
thaw for the last few days, so that the ice was beginning to
melt in places. Early in the morning we sent over six camels
loaded with provisions, as a test.

Each camel was led by a man carrying a heavy, iron-
tipped staff which he kept thrusting down into the ice to
test whether it would bear. The experiment went well, and
we decided to take the whole caravan across. I sent a message
up to the caravanserai, and waited myself down at the river.

While I was waiting there, a Chinese came riding up,
muffled in a large wolf-skin coat, in a cheerful and sociable
frame of mind. We had been travelling together for the last
few days. He pointed to a tempting little inn on the other
bank, and suggested : “ If we two were to cross over at once,
we could sit there and drink a cup of tea and watch your
servants bringing the animals across.” That was impossible,
for I had to see that my valuable instruments were brought
over undamaged, but if he cared to ride on ahead and wait
for me, it would be nice to have a little talk, once the animals
were safely across. He set off, just as my camels and wagons
came down. There was a crowd of interested spectators on
the bank.

A shout. I spun round. In the middle of the river I saw
both horse and rider vanish together. The man managed to
cling to one of the edges of the ice and hold himself up until
the people on the bank could throw out long ropes and pull
him out; but the horse, the saddle, the saddle-bags, and all
their contents of hard cash and important dispatches — the
man was a messenger from the Governor-General to the
Governor of Ak-su — were sucked down under the ice and

KARAVAN

7 *

carried away by the current. This spectacle put an end to
any idea of trying to get across to the other side. Better wait
a few days, until we could be safely ferried over.

A charming and well-to-do Mongol, An-go-saling, with
whom I was acquainted, invited me to take refuge in his
house instead of going back to the caravanserai. I accepted
gladly. He lived in a spacious and clean yamen. In the after-
noon, while I was sitting on the warm kang'^ in the largest
room, making up my map, a visitor was announced. It was
Ma-shen-sing, the courier who had been nearly drowned.
He had borrowed some dry clothes, and was come to pay
his respects and thank me for my help, by means of looks
and gestures and a long oration, of which I understood little,
couched in the most intricate turns of his elaborate language.

He bowed and raised his hands, and the words flowed
from his lips in a ceaseless torrent. He was so polite that I
had never seen anything like it. I stood incomprehending
in the face of his neatly turned phrases, and asked him what
he meant. “ Sir, you have saved my life! I must be allowed
to thank youl — ? ? — You were there with your remark-
able caravan, it was a great diversion for the people of Kara-
shahr to watch it cross the river. That was why there were
so many people on the bank. That was how I was saved.”
This astonishing argument was followed by another succession
of bows. I am certain that he thanked me far more than he
did the people who pulled him out of the hole 1

^Kang is a platform of brick on one side of the room, wanned by an open fireplace or
kept at a comfortable temperature by some other means.

CHAPTER XIV

The Casket of the Dalai Lama

AN- GO - S ALANG had a great treat in store for me, when
xjL he came that evening to ask whether I cared to go with
him next day to the little monastery of Chogusin kurai to
see the Mongolian monks celebrate a festival. Lao Djang,
An-go and a young monk came with us, riding on elaborately
adorned Mongolian horses. We crossed Kara-shahr-darya
about six miles above the town. The water rose right
over the horses’ legs, but the bottom was firm and the animals
sensible, so all went well. There was no ice so far up, but
the current was much stronger there and the water beat
against the horses’ shoulders. We reached the monastery
in the evening, and were given a comfortable tent, warm tea
with salt and milk, boiled mutton and rich soup, and went
straight to bed.

Next morning for the first time we saw the camp in all
its glory. There were about fifty yurts standing on a plain
covered with luxuriant grass. They looked like huge white
bee-hives, and from some of them rose a humming sound
which justified the comparison. We lifted the door-hanging
of one and peeped in. The lamas were sitting in rows on the
ground, dressed in red, reading Tibetan prayers aloud with-
out the slightest conception of what the words meant.

The following story is told of the founding of the mon-
astery: Once, many years ago, there was a young Mongol
who had lost both his parents and was alone in the world;
As he was in comfortable circumstances, he decided to travel

KARAVAN

to Lhassa, the Mecca of the Mongolians, in high and inaccess-
ible Tibet. He sold his possessions and provided himself
with jambas (a jamba = 4 lb. 2 oz. pure silver), the heavy
silver coinage which is current all over Central Asia.

His road led southwards through Korla, Charkhlik and
Temerlik, and it was long and difficult, full of dangers and
obstacles. At length he reached his goal. He was lodged
in a house belonging to the highest lama of the Kara-shahr
Mongols, and stayed for a long time receiving instruction
at the monastery. The Great Truths were revealed to him.
His body wasted away till he became like a trembling reed,
but his soul grew in strength.

When twelve years had passed, he was considered ready
to return to his own country. The only possession he took
with him, apart from his prayer-wheel and his holy books,
was a silver casket on which were engraved the six characters
Om ma ni pad me hum, and which, like the prayer-wheel, was
a gift from the Dalai Lama himself. When he reached Kara-
shahr, the reigning prince indicated Chogus^n kurai as a
suitable place to take up his abode. He forded the river —
the same river we had just crossed ourselves. It was a cold
winter’s day, the water reached right up his legs, and after-
wards both of them got frost-bitten. This was a sign from the
gods that he was to settle on the spot where he found himself.
Many of the young lamas gathered in his yurt, and he gave
them instruction and taught his people from the holy writings
he had brought with him.

One day the chief men of Kara-shahr came to his mon-
astery, which already enjoyed a high reputation, and asked
for his help. Every spring and autumn the town was visited
with severe storms. The river overflowed its banks; the
losses in cattle were heavy. Could not he, Burgut Lama,
who possessed such great wisdom, incline the Spirit of the
Winds more gently towards their town.? He promised to
consider the matter.

THE CASKET OF THE DALAI LAMA 75

Diligently studying the holy writings, he discovered
that it was not a good but an evil spirit that controlled the
winds of Kara-shahr. So he determined to capture the spirit.
He had himself carried down to the banks of the river, taking
with him the casket of the Dalai Lama, and was left there
alone all night. The next morning, when the people came
back, he was still sitting there with the casket in his out-
stretched hands. His face bore the traces of great suffering.
The struggle had been a hard one, but he had conquered.
The storm of the night had subsided, the sun was shining
from a clear sky, and the snow-crowned peaks of the Mountain
of Heaven glittered in the far distance. He was carried up
again to the temple yurt, and placed his casket in its inner-
most sanctuary.

Months and years passed, and the power and prestige of
the old lama grew greater and greater. The bad storms were
gone, nothing remained but gentle breezes at the time when
the crops ripened.

The old man had often expressed the wish that, when he
died, his body should be burnt and the ashes strewn over the
river. When at last his hour struck, the people hastened to
carry out his wish. His ashes were collected in an urn, and
the prince himself was to strew them over the river.

Then an evil spirit appeared, and entered into the body
of the beautiful princess and took possession of her soul.
She went to her husband and said: “This cannot possibly
be right; we should be much wiser to send the ashes to the
Dalai Lama. He must have intended the casket in the temple
to hold the dead man’s ashes and be carried to Lhassa. Would
it not be better to prepare a caravan and carry the dead man’s
earthly remains to the Dalai Lama, his lord and master here
on earth?’’ The prince, who was quite a young man, thought
this advice was good. A large caravan was prepared, lavishly
provided with gifts and with huge hadacks — ^wide, light-blue,
dragon-adorned ribbons from the Far East, symbols of com-

KARAVAN

plimentary greeting. Some of the oldest lamas went too.
The ashes of the wise old man were poured into the silver
casket with the holy symbols, and the caravan set off in a
raging storm.

Only the two oldest monks reached the goal of the pilgrim-
age. They told the Dalai Lama their story and presented
their casket, laid on a rich hadack. He listened to the tale
with astonishment — ^why had they not obeyed Burgut Lama’s
behests.? How could they pay more heed to the light chatter
of a young woman than to the wise words of an old man,
the last wishes of the dead ? Had not the old man sacrificed
his own life and given all his possessions to help his people?
He had fought and overcome evil. If they had strewn his
ashes over the river, no power would ever have been able
to open the casket, and the evil spirit would have been im-
prisoned. In despair the monks begged to be given their
casket back, so that they might return home and fulfil the
last wishes of the departed, but the Dalai Lama replied that
they had forfeited the right. The poor monks had nothing
for it but to return home with their gloomy tidings.

The storms still rage in Kara-shahr in the spring and
autumn. Every day the monks swing Burgut Lama’s prayer-
wheel, every day they read their Tibetan prayers, but the
incarnation has not yet taken place of a spirit strong enough
to help mankind in its fight against the lord of the desert and
mountains, the Storm, and overcome him.

TOven Changset, one of the most powerful Mongol
leaders, closely associated with Sin Chin Gegin, the Grand
Lama, came to Chogusan kurai while I was there. He went
from jmrt to yurt visiting the old men, and giving each of
them a gift and a hadack. One would be honoured with a
packet of sugar, another with a canister of tea, one was given
new robes. Tdven Changset bore himself like a true chieftain.
He was tall and well built, bub the clothes that he and his

THE CASKET OF THE DALAI LAMA 77

soldiers wore clashed badly with the surroundings. They
were dressed in dark-green uniforms of European cut.

We went in together to see the present Grand Lama of
the monastery, who dwelt in the sheltered security of a double
yurt. He had been elected Piyor some time before, in recog-
nition of his having shown his respect for Burgut Lama by
letting his legs waste away, in the hope of becoming worthy
to set the people free from their curse and overcome the evil
spirit of the storms. In front of his little altar, co>^ered with
blue silk, on which stood an image of the Buddha, shielded
from the evil eye by a screen supported on two beautifully
carved pillars of dark-red wood, ran a lower ledge, also covered
with blue silk, on which was ranged a low row of exquisitely
wrought silver bowls. Butter and oil were burning in the
lamps all round, and joss-sticks were stuck in an old bronze
bowl. The air was heavy with incense : the smoke of precious
sandal-wood. The old man was sitting on a cushion, dressed
in a robe of imperial yellow silk, with a tall lace cap on his
head and a mother-of-pearl rosary in his hands. Every
eleventh bead was of ebony and somewhat larger than the
others. His hand passed caressingly over them, his eyes
were fixed steadily on the image of the Buddha. I stood back
in the dark tent, but TOven Changset went up and bowed
before the venerable old man, who poured into his outstretched
hand a few drops of water from a silver pitcher, which he
drank while the old man wished him a long and happy life.
When we went out — ^he had greeted me with a dignified
inclination of the head — we left him still swinging in his
shrivelled hand the silver prayer-wheel that was a relic of
Burgut Lama.

In the outer tent the monks were reading from the Scrip-
tures in a monotonous voice, and groups of Mongols were
kneeling outside. Now and then a happy mother would
venture as far as the tent door, where two lamas in dark-red
robes stood in impressive attitudes distributing to the grateful

KARAVAN

throngs water which had been blessed by the holy man inside
the tent.

The climax of the festivities came when the sun reached
its zenith) and the old lama was carried out and placed on a
throne in the circle of the highest dignitaries. Few of them
appeared to follow ascetic rules. They were round and sleek
with good living, in striking contrast to the old man in their
midst.

All the assembled people moved in a circle round the spot
where the old man was enthroned. Group after group knelt
down and touched the ground with their foreheads as they
passed, while the youngest lamas chanted a sleepy melody.
Neither they nor the people understood the words, but the
tune spoke to their hearts. As each group passed by, the old
man bent his head and sprinkled a few drops of water towards
them from his silver pitcher. After this had gone on for an
hour, the sound of hollow horns, resounding bugles and
murmuring shells arose from the whole monastery choir.
The holy one was carried in by reverent hands into his separate
apartment, where he relapsed undisturbed into contemplation,
seeking his Nirvana.

It was all beautiful and dignified, and it was an impressive
sight when the Mongols came wheeling by on their tall horses.
The women wore heavy silver ornaments and dresses of beau-
tiful design and soft, harmonious colouring. Often they had a
youngster in front of them on the saddle and one behind,
holding tightly to their mother’s belt. The poor people rode
on oxen, the rich on horses, but no one went on foot. Their
greeting sounded superb : “ Amorkhan sain beino ? — Sain^ ta
mendo sainV' (Are you in good health.? — Thank you, yes.
Have you peace in your soul?) They handle their horses
magnificently. Even the lowliest of them bear themselves
with dignity. They are the true descendants of the proud rulers
of earlier times.

Chogusdn kurai

Toven Changsety one of the most powerful Mongol leader Sy
and two soldiers of his guard

THE CASKET OF THE DALAI LAMA

The ride home was not an unqualified pleasure. Lao
Djang’s horse stumbled and fell in a stream, and the boy was
soaked to the skin, and had to spend the night in a yurt while
the rest of us rode on. We had no lights, and it was as black
as pitch when we reached the house, but a cup of tea revived
our spirits. Chil and the other two dogs, Manasse and Uarda,
had not been able to accompany us on this excursion. They
barked joyfully on our return and danced round their master
when he went to the kitchen to fetch them some meat, after
that sitting primly up on their best behaviour. Chil in his
black dinner-jacket, Manasse in tails with a white shirt-front,
and Uarda in her beautiful shimmering brown silk evening
dress. Give a paw nicely, good dog; thank you, good night.

CHAPTER XV

The Burgomaster’s Visit

T he crossing of Kara-shahr-darya was comfortably but
slowly accomplished by means of big ferries, taking
six camels at a time. It was very crowded, and long queues
were waiting on either bank, but An-go-salang had arranged for
our animals to be taken first, and this saved us several days.
Ma-shen-sing had gone back to Urumtsi, where he was un-
fortunate enough to be dismissed from his post on account
of having lost the documents that were swept away from him
in the river.

While the ferry swung backwards and forwards with its
loads of camels, An-go-salang and I sat on a rush mat with a
dish of mantOt a kind of steamed pasty, in front of us, and
drank green, aromatic tea. The instruments were safely
over.

A busy scene lay before us. One Turki family had made
themselves a positive home among huge bales of picked
wool. Next came enormous bundles of Khotan paper, loaded
on arabas. Mats from the Khotan district were recognizable
from afar by their bright colours, for unfortunately the beau-
tiful, far more valuable and lasting vegetable dyes have been
replaced now by aniline dyes. There were heavy sacks of
rice from Ak-su, all stamped with the name of Dao Tai, on
their way to Urumtsi. Opium smuggled from Russia was
hidden in many a saddle-bag, as the yellow, sunken, wasted
faces of the owners bore witness. Groups of travellers from the
southern tracts of Alte Schar (“ The six towns ”, an old name

for the districts round the Taklamakan desert) were on their

THE BURGOMASTER’S VISIT 8i

way to Urumtsi to look for work as agricultural labourers.
A kapak^ or gourd, to carry water in, and a bundle on their
back, was their only provision for their long journey. Donkeys
brayed incessantly, and well-groomed horses and fine mules,
the favourite beast of the Chinese, were much in evidence.
The Mongols maintain that the horse is superior.

There was great excitement just as our last camels came
up. A wedding procession on the other side was waiting to
be carried over, but the beardless, dour Mongol who was
controlling the traffic regarded this as a matter of little im-
portance that could quite well wait, and told the ferryman to
take on a few arabas instead, quite unmoved by the oaths
which a Turki can always produce at least as easily as a pious
prayer. However, he may have softened later — it was doubt-
less merely a question of a little financial adjustment. It is
very rare in Chinese Turkestan to find anyone who will not
gladly accept bribes; the art is simply to hit upon the right
way of offering them. The recipient will always have some
brilliant story ready to explain how the money, to which he
is so indifferent, was “ forced upon him ” against his will.

The road to Korla runs through the hills, following the
course of the clear, foaming Konche-darya. These hills con-
tain coal and minerals and a few salt mines. We avoided the
town of Korla itself by skirting it to the left — the monotonous
visits to the authorities in a place like that generally take a
whole day, and I was very unwilling to spend the time, as
we were in a hurry to get to Ak-su. From Ak-su we meant
to go south through the desert, and if the year was too far
advanced, the journey would be too difficult.

I mapped our route as we went, using the wheel of an
araba as a measuring wheel and trying to make my records
as accurate as possible. As far as the weather allowed, we
fixed the position of every camping ground by astronomical
location — ^we could not always see the stars, though we gen-
erally could. These were busy days, with little time for sleep.

KARAVAN

I was always the last into bed, and called the others at dawn.

Near Korla I had the pleasure of meeting Sir Aurel Stein.
He, like us, had had some trouble with the authorities, who
instead of helping did everything in their power to hinder.
The Chinese are of a friendly disposition, and the individuals
one came across generally wanted to help, but could do nothing
in face of the orders they had received from their superior
authorities. Sir Aurel knows all there is to be known about
Asia, and even at his present advanced age his interest still
centres in these districts where he won his early laurels; but
it was impossible not to see how bitterly he resented these
diplomatic difficulties.

Generally we spent the night at a caravanserai, which was
in many ways the most comfortable arrangement. We worked
intensively. Vorotnikoff travelled by night and spent the
day in some village where he could read his meteorological
instruments quietly every hour. This greatly increased the
value of my measurements, and meant that the altitude figures
on the map were of an accuracy that would not otherwise have
been attainable.

A caravanserai is really a terrible place, but if you go
the right way about things, you can make yourself quite
comfortable there. Vorotnikoff and his section generally
arrived first. The first thing they did at each new place was
to shout for “ KS suir — Hot water I”, and sprinkle it
over the walls and floor to bind the dust and drive away the
vermin. Ragged mats were carried out, simple but clean
rush mats laid down, two stools and a long table taken in, the
windows opened wide — if they would open — a fire lighted
in the open grate, and the room was ready to receive a sahib.

When you live in a caravanserai, the work of the servants
is considerably reduced. Everything you need is available on
the spot. Even the cpok has an easier time, and a comfortable
stove to put his pans on. The beasts get a stall, where there is
no risk of their escaping, and have well-filled mangers in

THE BURGOMASTER’S VISIT

front of them. Just when the caravans arrive in the evening
it is unpleasant, for the horses have a habit of rolling on the
ground as soon as the harness is taken off them, and send
clouds of dust flying over the whole courtyard, but after
that it gets better again.

Vorotnikoff taught me a fine trick for keeping the natives
out of the way while I was working. The chief trouble always
came with the determination of the magnetic declination,
which I took just at sunset. I had to be able to see the mag-
netic needle move, and at the same time observe the pole
star in the north, and I was very unwilling to take this measure-
ment at night, as the sensitive magnetic needle is thrown out
by a pocket lamp.

Of course as soon as you set up an instrument in some
place where no one has seen anything like it before, you are
immediately surrounded by a crowd of inquisitive onlookers,
which is both irritating and dangerous. But just at sunset
there is an excellent way of getting the natives to sit down
quietly on, the ground, and stay there motionless and silent
for just as long as I needed to complete my measurement.
When I had set up my theodolite and the crowd had gathered,
I put my hand to my ear and listened. At sunset you always
hear the chanting of the Allah il Allah prayer. I turned to the
people round me and asked if they were Mohammedans. —
Yes, they were. Then why aren’t you sitting down.? Can’t
you hear.? Yes, of course, they could hear. The Koran requires
the faithful to sit when they listen to prayer. Every one of
them sank down and sat piously listening, while I took my
measurements in peace and quiet.

One of the many features which the towns along the
northern boundary of the Taklamakan desert have in common
is the poorness of their roads. The country is so boggy that
the roads are positive quagmires and shake as you go over

them. Every now and then one of the animals will sink through
(v 6 (tt) 7

84 KARAVAN

the surface, which is strengthened with interwoven twigs and
branches, and then you have to look very sharp, for the bog
seems to draw the creature down. For VorotnikofF, who
travelled at night, this danger was particularly acute. But
our lucky star watched over us, and we never got into any
serious difficulties.

The camels were very lightly loaded, so as to be in their
full vigour when it came to crossing the desert from Ak-su.
Chil went with them, and learnt the art of rounding them
up from the dirty but capable Lao Cheng. He learnt it so
well that he became an invaluable help. Whenever the camels
were being rounded up, Chil would run round them in wide
circles, barking and snapping a little at their legs, playfully
but enough to make them go the way he wanted. A good
dog is worth two servants, and is far more loyal and watchful.
No unbidden guests came round our camels at night.

We reached Kucha on the ist April. A Swedish woman
lives there, a Miss Lovisa Engvall. I went to see her on the
and, but I was tired that day. I had been riding hard for the
last few days, and I said frankly that she must excuse me for
only staying a very short time, for I must go home and sleep.
She gave me coffee made on her Swedish cooking-stove, and
both the coffee and the Swedish stove warmed me body and
soul. When I had eaten up all the Swedish ginger biscuits,
she saw me back to the caravanserai.

I had sent the burgomaster my visiting card that morning,
and he responded to the gesture with a personal visit. He
came at twelve o’clock, just as Miss Engvall and I got back.
After exchanging the ordinary formalities, we entered on a
more personal conversation. He was very interested, and
cross-questioned me like a newspaper reporter. We looked
at maps and admired photographs. Among other things I
brought out the China volume of Norstedt’s History of the
Worlds admirably written by Professor Karlgren and well
illustrated. It grew later and later, but still the burgomaster

THE BURGOMASTER’S VISIT

sat placidly on. He was evidently in no hurry. When five
o'clock came, he got up, and as etiquette demands, I went with
him to the door, where he thanked me for an extremely in-
teresting conversation, and I replied that I was only sorry
that he had to take his leave so soon, but that I deeply appre-
ciated his long visit, which must give me far greater “ face ”
in the eyes of the townspeople than I really deserved.

If I had had any notion of the result my words would
have, I should indeed have chosen them more carefully. “ I
have enjoyed all this so much; I am going home now to have
my dinner, which will take me an hour and a half, but after
that I will come back, and we can continue our conversation.”
Of course I answered that he honoured me too much and must
not think of putting himself out any more. It was no use.
The thing Was settled, and if my “ face ” was not great, it
must at any rate have been long.

At half-past six he was back, urbane and pleasant as before.
Miss Engvall was kind enough to come too. She had
stayed by me the whole time from twelve to five, and now
she thought to herself: ” I can at any rate take part of the
conversation on my shoulders, so that he can get a little
rest.” She did, only too well. I suddenly dropped off to
sleep. I was roused by a light tap on the shoulder from the
burgomaster. I jumped right out of my chair with horror and
apologized. “ Not at all,” the burgomaster replied with
exquisite politeness, “ I noticed that you were asleep and so
I woke you up. If you should drop off again, I will give you
another little reminder.” And we continued our conversation.
When nine o’clock came, he got up, and I drew a sigh of
relief. But alas, it was premature.

I went out with him into the courtyard, and as we were
walking over to the outer gate I felt him seize my arm. ” Look,
the stars 1 And the moonl” — Yes, indeed, I could not deny
the fact, though I was tempted to, for I guessed what was
coming. “ Now you must get out your ‘ Thousand Eyes ’

KARAVAN

that you have told me so much about, and let me see them
too.” “ Thousand Eyes ” is the Chinese name for a telescope,
and what he meant was my theodolite. I unpacked it, and
we looked at the heavenly bodies, admiring Alcor and Mizar,
and Jupiter and her moons, and finally the moon, the most
wonderful of all. He was surprised that it appeared upside
down — ^he was very observant — ^and I had to explain briefly
why. Then we packed the instrument up again, and I asked
if I could offer him a cup of tea, after standing about so in the
chilly air? But no, thank you, he was satisfied, and went home.

There were crowds of servants waiting outside the door,
and two huge paper lanterns a yard long inscribed in red and
black with the name Lo-shen-guan, his name and title, and
various other characters which I could not read. Each of the
lanterns was supported on three rods of some red kind of
wood, which looked like fishing-rods, and carried by six real
soldiers; and so Lo made his departure, preceded by one of
the lanterns and followed by the other and the whole of his
suite. I could not take Miss Engvall home. In another five
minutes I was asleep.

We set off again at seven o’clock on the morning of the
3rd. Miss Engvall had saddled her fine black horse and rode
with us for a few miles. When we parted — it was Easter —
I had a little pot of jam in one pocket, and a bag of gaudily
painted eggs in the other. But neither did she go empty-
handed home. I presented her with a little flag, a very good
lead pencil, and a box of Swedish matches. And lest anyone
should think that all this was just nonsense, let me hasten to
add that we parted with some mutual emotion, and both
highly delighted with our respective presents. Miss Engvall
is a magnificent representative of Sweden abroad, living a
life of privation, absolutely alone, and devoting herself to the
care of the sick. I met several other members of the Swedish
mission later on, and found in them all characters to admire
and people to love.

The author with his “ Thousand Eyes ” — his theodolite

CHAPTER XVI

Through the Desert to Khotan

O N the morning of the 1 1 th April I met a messenger
from Norin, who was on his way back to Urumtsi.
When the Governor-General gave me my visa, he had recalled
Norin at the same time 1 We met in the evening and encamped
together at a little place called Kotshtam. We slept little that
night, and spent the next forty-eight hours intensively in each
other’s company. When we parted, we had no idea when we
should meet again; but we had good hopes, and they were
justified.

A few more days brought me to Ak-su. There I had to
prepare for the march through the desert. It looks so simple
on the map: a straight line running through a large desert
from end to end. Well, it may be simple on the map, but in
reality it is difficult. True, we were going to follow the bed
of the Khotan-darya, but it is dry. There is only water in a
few scattered places. We were to take thirty camels. In
order that these thirty camels might be fit to endure the
hardships of the desert march, they had carried no loads on
the whole last lap of the journey. I made careful inquiries
in Ak-su as to whether there was any possible danger for the
animals, but everyone said “ No ”.

To make absolutely certain, however, I had huge white
costumes made for the camels, something like pyjamas, to
protect them both from the fierce rays of the sun and from
the unpleasant ticks. The tick is a chapter to itself, a loath-
some creature. It fastens on to the camel with its powerful
proboscis, and sucks the blood steadily like a leech. From

KARAVAN

being the size of a healthy fly, it grows and swells until it
becomes like an enormous black grape, and the original
animal cannot be recognized. Even one of these creatures
torments the camel. It is worse when they come in thousands.
The camel suffers both from the loss of blood, and because
every one of those little bites is a sore which becomes inflamed
and smarts and drives him distracted.

Our camels were magnificent. Their humps were swelling
with fat, their muscles well defined and strong. The natives
have an amusing system of indicating whether a camel is in
good or bad condition. For a good camel they hold up their
flrst and middle Angers, for a bad camel a clenched flst simply.
Two fingers up means that the camel’s two humps are stand-
ing well up. The humps are full of fat, and provide the nourish-
ment he needs when supplies of rice and maize run out and
when there is no more green stuff to eat. He also carries a
water supply in front by his shoulder, which enables him to
hold out for ten or even fourteen days without needing to
drink. Our camels were all two fingers up. The servants I
had with me were also good, even if they were not exactly of
the two-fingers-up class. When we set out from Ak-su on the
5th May, we were confident that all would go well.

All did go well — to begin with. I set up one pendulum
station after another. In spite of the driving sand and nasty
wind, we worked our way day by day a little farther towards
the south. But gradually our camels began to lose their
strength. When we reached Mazar-tagh, about half-way, one
of them died. I became frightened. This was serious. It is
not so very bad, you may think, for one camel to die, when
you have thirty! Yes, it is bad. If one dies, the probability is
that many others will go the same way — and possibly quickly.
I looked at the beasts. Their humps were already lying limp
along their sides. Vorotnikoff and 1 held a consultation.
What should we do for the best? It was not easy to know,
but in the end we decided to send all the camels without any

THROUGH THE DESERT TO KHOTAN 89

loads by the direct route to Khotan. They would find good
pasturage and plenty of water in the cool valleys of Karanghu-
tagh south of the town, and, we hoped, recover their strength.

How were we to get on ourselves? Well, many empty
caravans pass along the dry Khotan-darya. If a Turki caravan
has a load, it prefers to avoid this way and take the consider-
ably longer route round the edge of the desert area, where
water, fodder, and everything necessary are available on every
day’s march. On the other hand, if it has no load it will choose
the considerably shorter road through the desert, and risk the
dangers.

On the very day that our camels set off southwards, we
met a donkey caravan travelling empty. Could we hire it?
Yes, on one condition. There was a boy in that caravan,
Emin achon by name, who was ill. If sahib would promise to
do his best to cure Emin achon, we could hire the caravan,
otherwise not. To do my best was at any rate not beyond me,
so I promised, and we immediately drew up a contract and
signed it, I with my signature, Abdul achon, the white-bearded,
much-travelled caravan bashi, with his thumb-print. Like
most of his race, he had never learnt to write.

Then I went to look at Emin achon. He was in a bad
way. A neglected cut on the inside of the index finger had set
up blood poisoning. The finger was swollen, and so was the
hand and the arm a good way up. What was one to do about
that? There was nothing to do except to make a cut, and I
explained this to the good Emin. He was outside the door
before you could say Jack Robinson. Cut? Never 1 — I heaved
a sigh of relief inside the tent. I had promised to do my best.
If the boy refused, well, that was his affair. I had never
operated on anyone in my life, and I had no desire to start
now.

But I had sighed too soon. Emin achon stood outside the
door talking to his brother, Tochta achon. Tochta had been
among the missionaries at Yarkand, where there were real

KARAVAN

doctors, and he knew that this cutting people up was not in
the least dangerous; he told Emin that “ in Yarkand they
open people’s stomachs right up, and take out the rotten
parts, and then sew them together again. It is not dangerous
at all. You let him cut you, and you will soon be well.” I
stood Inside, listening and watching, and saw his graphic
gestures. It was something to be thankful for that this was not
a case of appendicitis.

A little later Emin came in, pale and trembling with
fright, and told me in a tremulous voice that he was so anxious
to have his finger cut. — Yes, one could see how anxious he
was: just as anxious, in fact, as I was to do the cutting. How-
ever, there was no getting out of it now; I should have to
try. I had a valiant help in the person of VorotnikoflF, who
had once been Dr. Hummel’s assistant and had learnt a good
deal from him. We set to work together. First we had to
wash the boy, and that thoroughly. Then came the question
what to use for an operating knife We found it right at the
bottom of a packing-case: the old razor, which now came to
honour again. We washed it in spirits and held it over a flame
to sterilize it completely. Two men held Emin’s hand — ^we
had no anaesthetic — ^VorotnikofF wielded the knife, and I
stood by the bandages and antiseptic wadding. I had brought
a beautiful first-aid chest with me from the chemist’s in Lund,
and it contained everything we needed.

Two deep cuts, one on the inside, one on the outside.
Two frightful howls, a shower of tears. The blood spurted,
Emin wept, Lao Djang turned white. On with the antiseptic
and the bandages, and the whole thing was over to everyone’s
satisfaction. We gave Emin a morphia tablet to deaden the
worst of the pain, and in a little while he was peacefully
asleep.

• •••••••••

We set about repacking all our baggage. We were to
travel now not with camels but with donkeys, which can only

THROUGH THE DESERT TO KHOTAN 91

carry about a quarter as much as a camel. Before we started,
I had to go up to the Mazar-tagh hills to make a triangulation.
It was a warm day. The hill I wanted to climb was only about
three hundred feet above the camp, but it was heavy enough
going, because the sand was deep and at every step you slipped
back almost as far as you went up. The servants were unwill-
ing and thought the whole thing senseless, and I myself was
not fired with any great enthusiasm. I had seen the customary
dust haze approaching from the north, and the chances of our
getting to the top before the storm was on us were not great.

As I stumbled upwards, sweaty and rather depressed, I
began to think of my friend Norin. I thought of the happy
time we had had together at Arpishme-bulak and of the day
he found his coral reef, and one thought led to another. Sup-
posing there were fossils here too? I began to look at the
ground more closely. It was not long , before I had a little
stone in my hand which looked distinctly unusual. I offered
five Hang to the first man to find a “ good stone ”. The ser-
vants knew what that expression meant, and laughed; it was
ridiculous, there was nothing here but sand. Still, with the
promise of the “ fiver ” before them, they kept their eyes
glued to the ground, and after a few minutes Lao Djang
came up with a small mollusc. Now I was certain. We set
all the apparatus down at the top of the hill, and I remained
there making my measurements while the boys went back to
go on hunting. I spent that evening happily sorting through
two large boxes full of the most beautiful fossils, spiral-shaped
molluscs several inches long. That was a joyous evening 1

South of Mazar-tagh the watering places became more
frequent. Occasionally we made short excursions out into the
desert itself in search of old river beds, of which we were
lucky enough to find several. The river has changed its
course several times, and in many places we found banks
which had quite recently fallen in when the river had cut
itself a new course.

KARAVAN

To get some idea of what the country looks like, we will
make a trip straight across the river beds from the desert in
the west. The first vegetation we come upon is some half-
dried-up tamarisks, an occasional toghrak, then a belt of rather
more varied species, and then a few patches of reed as well.
From the top of a high dune we can see a line intersecting the
countryside, which represents a very old, dried-up river bed.
Then follows another belt of bare, undulating sand. The
tamarisks and poplars begin again, and grow more frequent.
A high, long dune forms the beginning of the next formation.
It runs down in a steep slope on the other side, and there,
twenty or twenty-five feet below us, lies a wide belt of dry
jungle.

It is hot and we are wearing thin, white clothes. The
biishes are full of strong thorns, which tear our clothes, and little
red spots appear all over our shirts and trousers from the hard
spikes, which leave their mark in the form of unpleasant but
harmless little cuts. In one place the ground is marshy, with
a long row of pools of very salt water. This is another old
river bed, though of more recent date than the one we came
upon first. The jungle continues. Suddenly it comes to an
end, and before us lies a narrow strip of plain covered with
reeds about eighteen inches high, and a few leguminous
plants pushing up out of the salty-white ground. This level
lies some feet lower than the belt of jungle. Another terrace,
five or six feet lower still, and we are standing on the bottom
of the actual river bed. It is quite hard and flat, with little
patches of sand, and in some places is as much as a mile or so
wide. We cross it. On the other side, close under the reed-
covered terrace, lies a little pool, a hollow in the ground
full of shimmering green water. It was a pool like this that
once saved Sven Hedin’s life. Beyond, practically the same
features are repeated all over again. Sometimes one or another
of the formations described above may be lacking, sometimes
even several of them,' and it can happen that the river is bor-

THROUGH THE DESERT TO KHOTAN 93

dered directly by dry desert. South of Mazar-tagh you will
sometimes find a little pool at the junction between the reed
belt and the jungle. It can always be seen a long way off,
for the people always mark it carefully with tall poles with
a crossbar at the top, or an unusually shaped branch, so that
it shall be easily found.

To return to our journey to Khotan. It was early in the
morning of the last day, and we expected to arrive there in
the afternoon. Everything in the tent was ready. I had just
had my tea and sent for Emin achon to dress his finger. The
operation had been a great success, and the inflammation
had died down, but the wound still needed attention and I
used to change the dressing every morning. Lao Djang came
in — and told me with a malicious grin that Emin achon had
run away. “ Run away.?” — ” Yes, he and his brother, Tochta
achon, have gone off.” I did not understand at all. What in
the world had they run away for ? Had they stolen anything,
or what had happened.? Lao Djang laughed and evidently
thought his master terribly simple-minded.

Eastern people often think us Europeans simple-minded
because we cannot follow the way their minds work, but
upon my word it is not always easy. Lao Djang had to ex-
plain to me. It was quite obvious, he said. Think of the time
Sahib had spent on the boy. Think of all that fine medicine,
all those fine powders and pills, red and white and yellow.
The first-aid chest had yielded potassium permanganate,
boric acid, chinosol, and many other costly things. And all
those fine long strips of lint, which would have been much
more suitable for dressing a young bride. The gauze band-
ages I It was obvious that all this would cost a small fortune,
and the two brothers could see that they were going to have
an enormous bill to pay. So they took to their heels.

I was both sorry and angry. They were utter rascals. I
had actually saved the boy’s life, and then for them to run

KARAVAN

away like that! It put me in a bad hmnour, which did not
improve during the day’s march.

The weather was warm and oppressive, with the usual
sandstorm at midday, and the air full of dust. My great
consolation was my dark glasses with the close-fitting wind
shields, in which of late I had even slept. That afternoon
I broke them — my last pair.

Just before we reached the town, we were met by Lao
Cheng, the man who had gone on ahead with the camels.
He was not looking particularly cheerful. How had he got
on with the camels on the way down ? — “ Badly, sahib, very
badly.” Seventeen of them had died. This was a staggering
blow. In a situation like this one has no one to confide in,
no one to talk to, no one who can understand. It drives one
half crazy. What in the world was I to do ?

” How are the twelve that are left?” — “ Bad, sahib, very
bad,” came the answer again. ” Where are they?” — ” In a
serai just over here.” We went straight there. It was the
miserable remains of camels we found there, no proud ships of
the desert. Not a hump stood up, they hung down the animal’s
sides like empty sacks. Their eyes were dull. It was a scene
of horror and desolation.

We arranged to take up our lodging at the house of a
fine old man, the British Ak-sakal Badrudin Khan, who is
known and loved by all who visit Khotan. Then I went
straight on to see a Turki merchant and try to make some
arrangement with him about the camels.. He was quite
willing to purchase what remained, if he could have them at
a reasonable price, and after a rapid inspection, we came to
an agreement by which he bought all twelve for the price of
three healthy animals. He was quite satisfied and thought he
had a good bargain, and so did I, for the natives know quite
a lot about the treatment of sick animals, and the probability
was that he would get them right again. But it turned out
worse than we had thought. I met the same merchant again

‘^Hedin^s Poor

A small pool on the eastern hank of Khotan-darya^ which saved Sven Mediums life in i8g^^ and now hears

the explorer^s name

Vorotnikoff beside the meteorological station at Mazar-tagh

THROUGH THE DESERT TO KHOTAN 95

two years later and asked him what had happened, and he
said it had gone badly. Only one of the camels had survived.

It was certainly not the heat, nor the ticks, nor the short-
age of water that was the cause of the trouble. Probably
they had caught some infection from one of the pools they
had drunk from. JVe had not caught it because we always
boiled our water, but camels do not drink boiled water.

A misfortune like this always raises the question of whether
it is right, whether one is justified in throwing lives and
money away like that? The question is difficult to answer.
The results of our work cannot be measured in shillings and
pence. What are the results? First the map, whose accuracy
I took all possible care to ensure. Then the astronomical
place locations and magnetic declinations, the gravity read-
ings, the botanical, geological and meteorological observations.
At any rate we had something to show for it all, I thought,
as I sat alone in Badrudin Khan’s serai that afternoon and
turned the whole thing over in my mind. And when I had
calmed myself a little, I decided I would go and pay my
visit to the Governor of the Province before the day was over.

I had a pleasant surprise. Liou-Dao-Tai was an old
friend to the expedition, and we had a really pleasant con-
versation. We drank our tea and produced the most elegant
“ flowers ”. He called me “ Priest of the stars. Subjugator of
the desert”; I parried with ” Peer of the lotus flower. Strong
Hand of the aged ” — ^he spent every penny he had on his
aged mother. We vied to outdo each other. At first I
managed to keep my end up quite well, but as things went
on I got left far behind.

It was all very pleasant to be called Noble lord. Son of
the all-seeing eye. Radiant pearl of wisdom — I recognized
how true it was, and felt it deeply — but I began to grow a
little uneasy. What lay behind all this politeness? There
must be a catch in it somewhere. I was getting tense with
apprehension, when at last it all came out.

KARAVAN

“ By the way, my watch is broken.” And he pulled out
quite a good gold watch, and wondered whether I would be
so kind as to mend it. Well, that was that. He had called me
“ Radiant pearl of wisdom ”, and now I could not even mend
his watch. I told him I was extremely sorry, but really I had
not the slightest idea how to mend a watch like that. He
did not believe a word of it. “ Don’t be so terribly modest,
I know that you can do anything. Please do me this little
service.” I tried in vain to convince him that I could not by
any means do anything, far, far less. I was like the scarab
beetle that crawls in the desert in comparison with the very
humblest real watchmaker. The trouble was that he had
proof for his assertions, whereas I had none for mine.

Had I not, when I passed through Kucha, mended a
bicycle, the only one in the district.? Yes, I had. Had I not
mended An-go-salang’s sewing-machine in Kara-shahr.? Yes.
And in Ak-su a gramophone .? Again, yes. And on the way here
a man? So he had heard of that already. What more could
one want? It was conclusive. I could do anything. The only
question was whether I would.

What was I to do? I decided I should have to take his
watch home with me, keep it for a week or so, and then send
it back with a message that I was sorry, but I had not been
able to mend it. I thought Providence might have spared me
this. I had had trouble enough that day: first Emin achon
running away, then my glasses, and then the horrible tragedy
of the camels, that weighed heavy on my mind.

But Providence meant well, though I did not realize it at
the time. When I got home — it was overcast that evening,
and I had nothing to do — I took his watch out and began to
look at it a little more closely. Man is an inquisitive animal.
I opened the case. It was a very handsome watch. The little
screw that held the knob for winding it up was loose, and
I tightened it. It was a simple and bloodless operation, and
the patient recovered. I sent for Lao Djang, handed him the

THROUGH THE DESERT TO KHOTAN 97

watch, and, with an expression of studied unconcern, asked
him to run up with it to the Governor’s, although it was
somewhat late.

Lao Djang looked at his sahib. He straightened himself
and grew several inches taller. Of course he had been up at
Liou-Dao-Tai’s with me a little while back and had heard the
Governor say that I, his master, could do anything, but he
had not believed it. Now it was obvious that Liou-Dao-Tai
had been right. Now he was first boy to a master who could
do anything'y so he had every reason to grow, at any rate in
his own estimation. He went straight up to the yamen, and
in half an hour’s time he was back again, beaming with joy.
He had doubtless been well recompensed for my having
mended the watch, but he was welcome. I was a little curious
as to what Liou-Dao-Tai had said.? “ Oh, he said: Of course
I knew he could. It is only that he is so terribly modest.”

CHAPTER XVII

Karanghu-tagh — the Dark Hills

L ANGHRU is a little village twenty-five miles south-west
^ of Khotan. It was during a long illness there that I
first really learnt to appreciate the faithful Mongol Tomes.
Until then I had had mainly Chinese servants, but they were
horribly dishonest, and I hated it. When I found that Lao
Djang, our first boy, was a rogue, one of the others a thief,
and that the cook had syphilis, my patience gave out.

I made the last discovery one evening, just after an astro-
nomical determination of position. I had jokingly turned my
pocket lamp straight into the cook’s eyes, and to my horror
the pupils did not show the least reaction, but stared back as
large and black as ever. An hour later he was out of my camp,
and we washed all the kitchen utensils with a warm solution
of potassium permanganate.

I told this story to Hummel not very long ago, with a
certain pride. He laughed and said : “ That was a silly thing
to do. When the illness has got to that stage, it is no longer
infectious, and you can be quite sure that the next man you
engaged, and who gave the normal reflex, had the same illness
at a much more dangerous stage.”

1 engaged Turkis instead of Chinese. The new head of
the caravan, or caravan bashi (bash = head) as he is called
in Turki, was an Argon, Muza Hadji. The race is a mixture
of Ladaki and Turki, and the combination is an excellent one.
Hadji, as we used to call him, had served on several of Sir
Aurel Stein’s expeditions, and proved sensible and reliable.

KARANGHU-TAGH— THE DARK HILLS

Tomes attended to the meteorological observations in
Khotan. He and I used to correspond in Russian — not with-
out some difficulty. We had to begin by holding a conference
to agree upon an alphabet that suited us both. His epistles
were gems. I will translate one; “Pencil not. Barograph
works well. I well. Big bey from Kashgar came yesterday,
lives here. Three new wives every day. Good recovery.
Tomes.”

Whether it was the bey or Tomes who had the numerous
wives, the letter did not disclose, but I was not in any real
doubt.

Langhru was an outpost of the Karanghu-tagh mountains,
towards which we were gradually making our way. Between
the steep hills lie gentle slopes with excellent pasturage for
sheep and goats, though only sparsely inhabited. In the
summer large flocks are driven up there from the plains about
the river beds of Jurung-kash and Kara-kash, but in the winter
it is too cold there for sheep.

The population is not very attractive. It is said that
the lower type of criminals used to be sent to these parts;
but the country is fascinating none the less. Behind the
pasture-land lay the lofty peaks of the Kun-lun range, and
both these and the lower hills were included in our itinerary.
Norin had been there before and studied the geology and
topography, and now I was to carry out position-fixing and
gravity observations.

We generally rode from camp to camp on small, hardy
mountain horses, and climbed the peaks on foot. The gentle
slopes, covered with rich, luxuriant pasturage, had tempted
numbers of marmots to settle in the district. They used to
sit about on the hillsides waving their outstretched hands —
their paws look like hands — and crying their “ yokk, yokk,
yokk”. Marmots live in deep burrows, which constituted a
serious danger to our transport animals, for often they nearly
broke their legs when they happened to tread on one of these

(F e02) 8

xoo

KARAVAM

deep, treacherous holes. The hunting of marmots is pro-
hibited by Turki law, possibly on account of a legend which
I was told there.

Once long ago there lived at a little village called Pisha
a molla apd a common achon. Their lands both adjoined a
heath where there was excellent pasturage. One day they
fell to quarrelling about this pasturage: Kamal molla de-
clared that it was his, but Niaz achon maintained that it was
their common property, and the matter was taken before the
council of the elders. Kamal molla was a bad man, and to
make matters worse, his daughter, Henipa chan, was a bad
girl. Together they dug a deep hole in the ground, and the
girl hid in it. When all the people were assembled, Kamal
molla suggested that the simplest way of settling the matter
would be to ask the ground itself to whom it belonged. Allah
would surely let it answer. The elders thought this a good
idea, so the Ak-sakal asked : “ To whom does this ground
belong?” and from the depths of the earth a voice answered:
“ To Kamal molla!”

The all-knowing Allah sat above in his heaven looking
down on the council meeting. That one of his own servants
should so abuse his office and his understanding troubled and
even angered him. He therefore transformed the daughter
into a davogan or marmot, and this at once set up its typical
cry, ” yokk, yokk, yokk,” which in Turki means “no!”
Then the people understood that this was a sign from heaven,
and they drove out the wicked molla, after first shaving off
his beard and taking away his white turban. But as Henipa
chan had been a bad girl, the davogan became a bad animal,
a despised djallap^ outcast, stinking, unclean.

When Niaz Beg, who was riding with me, came to the
end of his tale, I suddenly found myself sitting on the ground.
It had all happened in a Hash. ” Hoppla ” had set his left
foot in a davogan hole, and I had looped the loop over the
horse’s head and landed in a sitting position without so much

A Langhru Family

XARANGHU-TAGH— THE DARK HILLS xoi

as a scratch. The only damage was a broken pencil point.
This was the third time I had nearly come to grief out there,
and, as on the first occasion, I was soaked through with sweat
in a second. “ Hoppla ” ran away, and I had a long chase to
catch her again.

The bridges of Karanghu-tagh deserve some attention.
They are much better now than they were ten or twenty
years ago, but although they are quite strongly made, they
still remind one of the line from the Swedish poet Tegn^r,
“ Bends ’neath its burden the hanging bridge ”, and the
animals certainly do not enjoy being taken across. One man
walks in front and holds the animal's nostrils or the halter,
another walks behind and holds his tail, and generally they
get safely over. Down below, perhaps sixty feet lower, rushes
a foaming torrent. Why do they not build better bridges?
you ask. Well, they have their reasons. Although the river
is sixty feet below, it sometimes rises to the level of the bridge.
This is likely to happen in August, when the heat of the sun
melts the ice on the mountain-tops and the glacial rivers are
full. At lower levels clouds bring heavy rainfall, and the
water rushes into the wide darya from thousands of valleys.
If the rain from the lower hills happens to coincide with the
flooding from the mountain-tops, the rivers swell instantly,
and many human lives are endangered. The water rushes
along in foaming cascades, the bridges are torn away, and
in cases where the river is used for irrigation purposes, the
dams are broken, and the whole fields may be swept away.
Then the entire population of the village lends a hand —
unity is strength — ^and perhaps they will succeed in saving
the bridge or in strengthening the dam. If not, there will be
much toil and trouble in store for them. The forces of nature
play a much greater rdle for the Asiatic than they do for us
Europeans.

Nissa is quite a little place, lying in a deep, steeply

103

KARAVAN

shelving valley in among the Dark Hills. Its inhabitants are
dark-hued, tough, strong, agile hillmen. Mettlesome antelopes
race over the steep slopes and the knife-edge mountain ridges,
where the solitary, blue-black peaks rise up to heaven. The
air is thin, but sound travels far, perhaps because everything
is so still. We are already approaching the glaciers — ^there
are alpine flowers on the mountain slopes close by us. The
water is crystal clear, filling the air with music, and the people
are fond of singing.

The place lies 9000 feet above sea-level. Just south of
the village is the 1 7,000 feet high Jay-tagh. I had hoped to
be able to set up a trigonometric station there with a view over
some of the highest peaks of Kun-Iun. My assistants were
four Taghliks, three of them eighteen years old and one a
little older, my own Mongol Tomes, and the Chinese Lao
Djao. Our first attempt failed. At about five o'clock in the
afternoon, after we had already climbed 16,500 feet, we
found a precipitous valley, at least 2500 feet deep, cutting us
off from the summit.

“We had two alternatives: to spend the night in the
stony desert without firing, or warm clothes other than what
we had on us, or to go back to the camp and begin afresh
from the other side. I inclined towards the former course,
but when I looked at the thermometer and found the tem-
perature was 21° F., I relented. We should have to expect
3“ F., and I ordered retreat, to the great joy of the Tagh-
liks. At first the descent was easy, but it grew steeper and
steeper. The four fine boys thought the “ path ” first-class,
and piloted us over ridges and down precipices at a break-
neck speed. Soon the nature of the ground changed, and
instead of dark, metallic blocks of rock we had the usual
loose clay soil and unpleasant rain-gulleys. Here we had to
go carefully, and even so would sometimes slide down a matter
of fifty or sixty feet at top speed in a cloud of dust. At 7.30
we reached the place where I had expected we should come

KARANGHU-TAGH— THE DARK HILLS 103

down, and had ordered the horses to wait for us. Tomes,
Lao Djang and I rode, and we got home at 9.40. The Tagh-
liks ran level with the horses, in spite of having spent the whole
day climbing; they are a strong race. I crept straight to
bed with a racking headache and raging toothache. I had
the same trouble yesterday evening, and took a morphia
tablet to make me sleep; I must have some decent rest. This
evening I have put the medicine chest away in the cold corner
under the heavy money-box, so as not to fall for the temptation.
They have a big fire out in the cooking tent, and Hadji has
been sitting there relating his adventures of thirty years
back, while I lay reading the same thing in Sir Aurel Stein’s
Sand-buried Ruins of Khotan**

The next day was a day of rest. On the 7th December
we made another attempt on the top from the other side. At
4.10 in the afternoon — ^we had started in the early morning —
we reached a ridge which I thought was the summit itself.
Another bitter disappointment lay in store for us when we
reached the top of it: once again a valley lay before us, cutting
us off from the summit, and once again we had to beat a
retreat.

“ Cold, windy, overcast, the mountains partly covered in
cloud. It would have taken us at least two hours to get to
the top. Took a panorama, set up an obof could not rise to
any theodolite measurements. It was not more than 12° F.,
but the wind made it very trying. Retreat. It was soon
pitch dark, but we had a paraffin lamp. Some meddler
had put it out of action by screwing the wick right down,
and the holder was soldered fast, so that we could not get it
up again, but a strip of shirt solved the problem. Some parts
of the road would have been absolutely impossible in the dark,
but we managed. We reached camp at 9.20. On the last
stretch we had been going through a continuous cloud of

^ An obo is a cairn, built generally of stones, sometimes of wood or simply mud, and
afterwards “ dedicated** by a gesture of the hands towards heaven and a bow.

104

KARAVAN

dvist: what with seven men scrambling down 2000 feet
through a layer of dust eighteen inches deep, it should be
easy to picture the result, and we looked the part on arrival.
Hadji had seen our lantern from afar, and had hot tea and
two pails of warm water waiting for us, so that I got a real
bath. Incidentally, we saw a wonderful sight to-day, a flock of
about fifty wild sheep which had taken fright, rushing in full
career through a narrow gorge down a steep slope. They
went in single file, hopping and prancing. Damnable tooth-
ache.”

We could not waste any more time on that peak this
trip. If ever I should be lucky enough on some future occasion
to go back to Nissa, I know now how that peak has to be
tackled; if only I am spared the toothache.

Liou-Dao-Tai had sent a jaje to accompany me on this
journey, a kind of foreman, whose name was Tochta achon.
He was brilliant in the matter of getting anything done and
getting it done quickly, but woe betide his countrymen if
they did not obey like lightning. An order had no sooner
been given than it was followed by his sharp, ^'•chap^ chap \" —
quick, quick — ^and a series of oaths. If the pace was still
not to his liking, Tochta achon would explain to the victim
the penalties in store for him, with the most horrible vitupera-
tion, and generally managed to apply an ungentle foot to the
rear of the recalcitrant one. He was not very pleasant either
to hear or to see in action, but he was efiFective. He rode his
own horse and attended to its feeding himself— of course at
the expense of the natives. They hated him heartily, and it
gave them no sorrow when misfortune befell him.

In Karanghu-tagh, on the way back from Nissa, he had
given his horse three times as much fodder as it ought to have
had, in the hope of making it fat and flourishing, but with
the result that the animal suddenly sickened. Tochta achon
came to me in the middle of the night sobbing, in strange
contrast to his usual coarse, fiiult-flnding self. Every other

KARANGHU-TAGH— THE DARK HILLS 105

word that fell from his lips was Allah, every third, sahib, and
every fourth, help. I referred him to Tomes, who knows
about horses and has a good heart, and who actually got up
in spite of the cold and dark. They rubbed the animal with
handfuls of straw, but without avail. When I woke up in the
morning, all was over. Tochta achon tried in vain to get the
natives to buy the horse’s flesh, but all he was able to sell was
the hide. He was in despair, while the inhabitants felt that
Providence was just. I could not help feeling sorry for him,
in spite of everything, for with all his coarseness he was
better than the average, and when he left me, I gave him
a good tip.

I had another gentleman with me, Niaz Beg, who had
orders to see that I took no photographs. He was much more
polished in his manners, much uglier in his character, than
Tochta. On the first day he was with me he made a terrible
fuss when I took a few photographs in spite of his express
prohibition. That evening, however, my servants took him
on one side and oiled him according to instructions. “ You
are under orders to tell sahib that he is not to take any photo-
graphs. If sahib does not obey, that is his affair. If you behave
sensibly, and do not make so much fuss, you can have quite
a pleasant journey with us, and sahib is never ungrateful.”
Niaz Beg was very quiet after that and much more sensible.

Let us turn a few more pages in my diaryl We are again
at the top of a high peak, to get a view of the ice-covered
caps of the main mountain range.

Mist. Waited an hour. Worse. Decided to spend the
night up here. It sounds unpleasant put like this: * The loth
December, 1931. Height 12,500 feet. No wood, no water,
no tent. Spending the night.’ But much more cheerful if
you add: ‘ Plenty of tissek^ yak dung, which burns excellently.
Two thermos flasks full of tea. A few pieces of bread.’ ”

It was bitterly cold all the same. Tomes was there too.
He spent the whole night looking after the fire and raking

xo6

KARAVAN

the embers over towards my feet. He himself was cold, and
caught a bad chill then and there. A few days later he got
really ill, and we had to stop to look after him. By that time
we had got down to Hasha at the foot of the mountain. The
natives objected; they wanted to get home in time for the
festivities which were just upon us, and thought Tomes could
quite well be left there by himself. This did not appeal to
me. I knew why Tomes was ill, and also whom I had to
thank that I was well myself, and we stayed. I gave him his
medicine every morning, went out for a ride, and then sat and
wrote and worked till evening.

One day we rode up the main valley until we came to a
projection where a tributary valley runs down from the south-
west. There was a terrace here about ninety feet high. We
climbed up. The view was magnificent, and close upon us
lay the ruins of an ancient town. It was extraordinarily in-
teresting. I shouted to an old man who was passing below
and asked him to have some hot tea ready for us in a little
while, and we began to look around.

Along the south side of the wedge-shaped projection ran
a moat and a strong wall. The town, or rather the fortress,
had extended between this and the point. In the middle of
the wall were the remains of a gate, and at the point of the
wedge was another, much more remarkable, entrance. There
in ancient days they had made their way in through a dug-out
canal which ended in a closed-in shaft running upwards.
The people on the terrace could let down a rope or ladder and
admit those they wished. Relics like this of an ancient culture
are scattered here and there throughout the land. A few days
earlier we had come upon an ohoy built of enormous blocks of
stone, which obviously also dated from very early times when
communications existed with inaccessible Tibet. 1 measured,
mapped, and made notes, and when we had done we went
down to the old man in the valley. Kadir achon had an un-
usually clean house, and was a very nice old fellow. He had

KARANGHU-TAGH— THE DARK HILLS 107

not only prepared tea, but had told his wife to make us a meal.
Hot chicken broth with little white radishes, onions, spinach
and dumplings was very welcome after the cold of the wind-
swept terrace.

Kadir told us how they used to find old vases and such
things up there. They did not dig from any archaeological
interest. The women went and spaded out earth from the
ruined walls, which was then carried down in big baskets and
spread over the fields, as it was believed to be excellent manure.
Every now and then the pick would strike against something
hard, generally a fragment of clay pottery, sometimes even
a whole vase. These vases were of all sizes, from quite small
ones to huge urns two or three feet high. It is always difficult
for the foreign traveller to get hold of such things, for objects
of archaeological interest always seem to be credited by tra-
dition with magical qualities. For example, one large Jar was
used for keeping rice in: the rice never came to an end, no
matter how much was taken out. Meat was kept in another
smaller one, which also had the peculiar quality that the meat
kept fresh and good for any length of time, even in summer
and in great heat.

There was one little jar, which obviously came from up
above, beside the open fireplace. It was cracked, but it was
extremely beautiful. I looked at it, but did not show any
particular interest. It was used for keeping melon seeds.
When we had finished our meal and were taking our leave,
I drew out a silver coin, which represented about six times
the value of the meal we had had, or about two shillings in
English money, and gave it to the old man. So as not to
offend him or appear to be paying for the hospitality he had
shown us, I asked him to accept it as a small gift, and perhaps
buy some raiment with it for his little daughter, for the lassie
was dancing round us without a stitch on her body although
it was midwinter. When we went out to our horses, Kadir
achon came after us and asked if he could give me something

io8 KARAVAN

in return? He held the jar in his hands. Need I say that I
was pleased?

As soon as we got back to Hasha, I went straight in to
Tomes with ihy acquisition. ** If you had not been ill, I should
never have come by this treasure, so you see how kind Pro-
vidence is.” Tomes shared my joy, and joy is an excellent
medicine, a serious rival to the three which Hummel tried so
hard to make the Turkis believe are Our Lord’s three best:
sunshine, fresh air, and water. That evening Tomes’ tempera-
ture was normal 1

One man walks in front holding the halter ^ another walks behind
and holds the animaVs tail

The interior of a courtyard in the “ Town of Rugs

CHAPTER XVIII

Khotan — the Town of Rugs

K HOTAN has a large staff of officials: a Provincial
Governor, a Burgomaster, a Colonel and a Customs
Director, in addition to all the more usual dignitaries. The
town is rich, and trade flourishes. Like many other towns in
this part of the world, it is really two, Kone Shar and Jengi
Shar, the old town and the new. Each half has its own bazaar
day, when the streets are alive with people and bright with
colour.

To get an idea of what life is like in this ancient town,
which teems with historical interest, let us go and visit some
of its high officials.' We will begin with Ma-tung-lin, the
colonel. In a turning off the main street is a large barracks
with several official residences. The right-hand side of the
sTreet is dominated by a gateway, with an inscription in
Chinese characters in blue-black on a white ground running
round the top of the arch. Two soldiers are on guard, Turkis
as usual. Inside the doorway are two guns of the seventeenth-
century mortar type. It never occurred to me that these were
anything but ornaments, until I saw a little later what they
could do when it came to real business.

The visitor is led in from the outer courtyard through a
gate in a low wall into a glorious rose garden. Ma loved
flowers. It was a large garden, enclosed by high walls on three
sides and shaded by majestic poplars all round. On the far
side lay a pond, full of white and pink lotus flowers. Beside
this was a large open veranda, on slightly higher ground — a
fascinating place that looked out over the whole sweet-smelling

lOtt

KARAVAN

sea of roses and the pond. An old, dark-leaved walnut tree
cast its shade over one side, which was used in the summer for
ceremonial dinners, and the practical Chinese often used to
borrow this veranda and hold their dinner parties at Ma’s,
the whole ground being covered on these occasions with soft
mats of subtle colourings.

Ma had been in Khotan for a long time and exploited his
position in a very clever way, that was good for his purse at
the moment, but bad for him in the long run. As commandant
of the district he was supposed to have 400 soldiers, and
received pay, clothing and supplies for that number. As
the custom is in this country, he kept only half as many, i.e.
200. How were these to be selected? Well, as the country
was at peace and the soldiers had nothing to do, it was best
that they should have some occupation for their long hours
of leisure. Khotan had long been famous for an outstanding
industry — rug weaving. To begin with, Ma taught his soldiers
to weave rugs, but by degrees he changed over to the opposite
system, and engaged rug weavers as soldiers 1

He had good taste, the flowers all round him testified to
that, as much as did the carpets over all the floors. Beyond
the veranda were large, spacious rooms furnished with almost
feminine elegance. There was also a little dimly lighted
recess with all the appliances for opium-smoking, though Ma
himself did not use the dangerous drug. He was young,
healthy and gay, and like all the other officials had many wives.

We will leave him to his domestic affairs and go on down
the main street to look in on the wealthiest man in the town,
Chuda-berdi-bey. After crossing a wide canal we turn sharp
left, and in among a labyrinth of side streets come suddenly
upon a little well-built mosque with the half-moon glittering
above it in purest gold. Beside it lies a shady dam, and
along that runs a bare, high, solid wall, built partly of fired
tiles, bluish-grey in colour, of the same material as the little
sanctuary itself.

The main street of Khotan

Badrudin Khan and his grand-children

KHOTAN

III

A double flight of steps leads up to the entrance, with
doors of the usual Russian type. Inside them is a heavy bar,
a very necessary protection against unwelcome guests. We pass
through a cool antechamber into a long hall with windows
that reach almost from floor to ceiling. Round the wall runs
a low fixed bench, padded and upholstered in soft, dark-red
velvet. The floor is covered with a single immense carpet
from the bey’s own workrooms. On one of the long sides is a
beautifully ornamented fireplace, and round the walls are
niches with pointed arches full of flowers. This is the ban-
queting hall. Our host prefers to receive his guests in the little
courtyard, which is enclosed on three sides by large buildings,
while the fourth opens on to a little garden. Whenever a
guest is expected, the courtyard and the wide steps leading
up to it are covered with soft carpets. He is fond of sitting
there himself reading aloud to pious listeners, while his eldest
son, or nice little daughter with the many black pigtails,
watches that his hookah keeps alight. After a cup of tea with
Russian sweetmeats and biscuits we go on a tour of his estate.

We pass through a well-stocked stable, past fine store-
houses, across an open courtyard, where a Russian telega'^
stands waiting, down to his shop on the main street. It is an
ordinary little shop and not in any way impressive. This is
not where his real business is carried on, it is simply a spy-
hole for watching over the bazaar, and someone always sits
there with ears well sharpened to report any fluctuation in the
market prices. On the other side of the street by which we
came are the weaving rooms, where hundreds of girls and old
women are employed spinning wool and silk, and about thirty
looms are working hard. Five people sit side by side at the
largest of them, one only at the smallest. The warp is of
cotton and the weft of sheep’s wool; occasionally camel’s
wool is used, and sometimes, though much more rarely, silk.
The most usual type of loom is for three persons. Two men

^ A tpringless four-wheeled carriage.

XZ2

KARAVAN

and the wife of one of them will sit at it, knotting with agile
hands, their quick eyes following the pattern from a design or
another rug. The youngest child lies at its mother’s breast,
its cradle behind her, while the other children, not yet big
enough to help, scramble round about. In a corner rather
apart from the rest sit the most skilful workers, who work
from their own heads without any pattern. The whole room
is covered with a roof of rush carpets. In the winter it is im-
possible to work there.

In the large rooms on the right there are fifty or so large
iron vats boiling and bubbling. This is where the silk cocoons
are boiling in lye, before being fished out with scoops of
plaited reeds, and the fine thread drawn off and handed to the
spinner close beside. It is an unenviable job. The hot lye
injures the hands, and the workers are mostly shrivelled old
women, with a few old men among them. A little farther on
is the drying room, where all the cocoons are stored when they
come in from the growers.

Just to the right of the door we came through is a raised
dais with a broad bench and enough room for about thirty
people. Here sits the bey on a rug and receives and weighs
in every skein of silk as it is finished, at the same time keeping
a watchful eye on the whole room. It is a lively scene — the
spinning-wheels whirring, the vats simmering, the children
playing and whining. Here is colour and brilliance, sunshine
and shadow, and above all — stench.

It is only two minutes’ walk back to Badrudin Khan’s
house. We go through a long serai laid out in terraces, where
Indian rug merchants bargain for the finest products of
Khotan, up a steep flight of steps, and out into a garden. Tall,
flame-coloured lilies border a little dam to the left. In the
middle of the garden stands an enormous chadir. The word
really means a tent, but here in Khotan it has acquired a
different meaning: a summer house that has no walls, so that
all the winds of heaven blow through it. This is the favourite

The serai ^ where Indian merchants bargained for the
finest products of Khotan

The spinning-wheels whir in Khotan

KHOTAN

*13

resort, where no women are allowed; it is reserved for the men
to celebrate namaz, their religious service, drink tea, smoke
their hookahs or chilem, gossip, transact business, tell stories,
eat pilau and, above all, sleep. The large room which opens
on to the garden is mehmanchane, the guest chamber; here a
magnificent dosturchan is prepared for those whom the old man
wishes to honour. He always looked delighted if one called
him Khan Sahib.

He himself lived in quite a tiny building on the other side
of the garden. A wall sheltered his private domain from in-
quisitive eyes. Inside was the harem, which men could only
enter on very rare occasions, when some very secret business
was to be transacted, and all the women were well hidden away
first.

I used to be up early in the morning and sometimes saw
the ladies of the house then, when they came to the little dam
in front of my window to fetch water. One of the daughters
was the finest feminine type I had seen out there, with regular
features, always clean and well dressed, and always with a
flower in her hair. She was tall and lithe, like her father, and
looked graceful carrying her heavy pails.

But Badrudin Khan’s daughters were not the first at the
dam. One of the Indians used to come out from the serai
before sunrise to fetch his water supply for the day. He was
tall and slim, and carried a rounded brass pitcher, which shone
like burnished gold and must have held at least six gallons,
balanced on his head. Water is holy to the Indian, and he
filled his bailer with loving care and emptied it slowly into
the water jar. Sometimes he was unlucky, and someone would
come up just as he was filling his jar; then he would empty
it out and rinse it carefully round before beginning his cere-
monial act all over again.

I used to sit behind my curtain and watch the absolute ease
with which he picked up his pitcher and almost danced away
with it on tiptoe. Then life began to move more quickly.

”4

KARAVAN

everyone came to fetdi their water, and an old woman brought
a shining washbasin to Khan Sahib, who himself slept in the
open air in a little corner of his ehadir. After he had washed
he would spread out his rolled-up prayer mat, his eldest son,
Jamal Khan, would come out with his, and together father and
son would perform their morning devotions. After that I
used to join them, and all four of us — ^for Tomes was always
of the party — ^would sit drinking tea together and enjoy the
beauties of nature. The whole of the rest of the day was an
incessant running and chattering, except for the midday
hours when everyone slept.

A visit to • Khan Sahib’s house was always a pleasure.
Humour shone from the old man’s little screwed-up eyes as
he told an amusing anecdote; his manner of stroking his long
white beard was that of a grand seigneur. What happiness and
rejoicing there was when he handed round sweets to his grand-
children, who all adored their grandfather 1

His home had none of the splendour of Ma-tung-lin’s
proud yamen, nor had he costly buildings and clattering
looms to testify to his wealth; but wealth was there none the less,
and was one of the reasons for the general respect in which
his family was held, though his had been won by long years of
fair dealing in which sound sense and a good heart combined.
It was a pleasant home — but may Allah in his wisdom
and goodness grant him a speedy remedy against fleas; he
needs it!

The best should always be kept to the last. There is in
Khotan one personality who stands out head and shoulders
above all the rest, a man of a nobility of character one does not
often meet. He is known all over the town by the Turki-
sounding name of Karekin bey. His real name is Karekin
Moldovack. He has lived in Khotan for thirty years, the faith-
ful guardian of a precious treasure: the art of dyeing wool
with vegetable dyes. He was the only one who did not sell
himself to the vulgar modern craze for crude aniline dyes. In the

The 83-year-old Karekin Moldovacky faithful guardian of a precious treasure

Erik Norin at his plane-table

KHOTAN

”5

big rug-making factories of Khotan and Lop they have for-
gotten the original patterns and the soft, lustrous colours
which used to be the distinguishing mark of the Khotan rugs,
and have abandoned themselves to orgies of colour and mon-
grel patterns from China, the results of which are painful to
look at.

Mr. Moldovack was eighty-three years old, but he still
had full possession of all his faculties. He ran his rug-making
and silk-weaving industry on model lines, without sucking
all the life-blood from his people. He taught them how to
mix colours to produce new and original shades. He collected
typical examples of the fine old products of the country, and
wrote out recipes for making dyes. There was always a row
of pans boiling in his courtyard, full of bark and roots, seeds
and skins, which together gave the lasting, shimmering, matt
colours, the hall-mark of quality. The beauty of the finest of
the old rugs was due not merely to the exquisite dyes, but to
the wool they were made of. It is only when the very finest,
velvety-soft lamb’s wool is used that that mother-of-pearl
shimmer can be got in the colours.

The European traveller was also fascinated by his first-
class library, by the cosiness of his little home, where excellent
cofltee was served — and first and foremost by his own winning
personality. I spent many a happy hour with him. He was
a true and loyal friend, always helpful, always ready to give
good advice, and well qualified to do so by his intimate know-
ledge of the land and people; self-sacrificing, dependable, and
with a heart of gold.

Mr. Moldovack and I celebrated Christmas, 1931,
together. By New Year’s Day VorotnikofF was back from the
mountains, and we celebrated that too in the old man’s home.
My Swedish “ Home Cookery Book ” and I were jointly
responsible for the dinner. I remember that the dishes included
omelette with morel, roast duck with Russian peas and potato
croquettes, and walnut cream. This was the first time in twenty-

(veo2) 9

It6

KARAVAN

two years that Mr. Moldovack had had company for Christ-
mas, and he was radiantly happy. As I said before, he was
expert at making coffee, and this formed the climax of the
dinner, together with a little glass of liqueur and a toast for
all the dear ones who were so far away and yet so near.

CHAPTER XIX

To Yarkand and the Swedish Missionaries

O N the I ith January, 1932, we were ready to set out again,
this time westwards towards Yarkand. Part of our
baggage was to be carried on the donkeys we had used before
in Karanghu-tagh. These were in charge of a stalwart, self-
assertive Turki, Churuk achon, who was a strict observer of
the Koran, and insisted on everything being done according
to ritual. A white lamb was slaughtered early in the morning
of the day before our departure. The velvety-soft, frizzy
skin was cut into long thin strips, and a collar made of them
for each of the donkeys. The meat was cooked, and the fat
of the tail used to make cakes — ^not the usual kind, which are
the size of a dessert spoon, but enormous ones about two feet
in diameter. All the meat was piled up on these big cakes,
and a large bunch of carrots and radishes laid on another.
Then a molla was summoned, and he prayed for Allah’s pro-
tection, for a prosperous journey for those who were going
away, and health and peace for those who remained behind.
Meantime, Churuk achon and his second in command, Tursun
achon, stood with the cakes of bread held high above their
heads as a sacrifice to the All-wise One. Allah only needed
to see the good intention. The donkeys stood all round in a
wide circle with their heads turned inwards, sniffing. They
evidently knew that their share in the feast was coming.
Churuk and Tursun went all round holding out their burdens
above the donkeys’ heads, and when they had completed the
circuit, a cloth was spread on the ground, and the bread and
meat laid on it. The vegetables were shared out among the

117

1x8

KARAVAN

animals, the bread and meat among the men. There must have
been about forty people there, and everything edible dis-
appeared in a flash.

Then we began to load up. Things grew lively, and the
molla did well to keep out of the way. The language of Turkis
when they are in a hurry is not exactly flowery, it is heavily
sulphurous. I sat perched on the roof, where I could have my
eye on everything, and directed operations. The most impor-
tant word was Astal — pronounced not with feminine softness
but forcefully, rather long-drawn-out, and with the stress
evenly divided — “ Carefully!'’

In the evening, when the tent was opened, there lay beside
my bed a beautiful, warm Khotan rug, which has accompanied
me faithfully ever since — Mr. Moldovack’s parting gift.

We had twelve camels with us in addition to the donkeys,
for I was planning to make a trip through the desert from
Guma, north of the ordinary road. The provisions for that
journey were a sack of bread and a whole roast sheep, and ice
instead of barrels of water. The donkeys took the greater part
of the baggage by the main road, while Vorotnikoff had set
out earlier from Khotan with the meteorological apparatus,
and was already in Yarkand by now carrying out his observa-
tions.

That little desert journey proved very interesting. I did
one silly thing which made it more difHcult than it need have
been, forgetting to take any fuel. We were six days getting to
Yarkand. The last part of the march was the most interesting,
for we found a large area far to the east of Tiznaf-darya that
was rich in vegetation, and had even been intended some years
before for cultivation. The river had flowed through it at that
time in an old channel, but now it was gone again.

Just beside Tiznaf-darya lay an immense sand-dune divid-
ing the desert from the cultivated plain, the oasis. There was
no vegetation on either of its slopes; it ran like a mountain
ridge along the river side, and no one would have believed

TO YARKAND

119

that just beyond it lay such rich vegetation. The camels fairly
swam down the loose sand of its western slope, and there
between ancient poplar trees, only a few steps away, ran a
canal with clear, fresh water. The animals stood along its
edge and gulped down the best of all drinks. A little higher
up lay the Turkis on their stomachs lapping it, and thirty feet
higher still stood a half-naked urchin and — hotti soit qui mal
y pense — “ It doesn’t matter, when the water has flowed three
steps Allah — ^praised and glorified be his holy name — ^has
cleansed it.”

We reached Yarkand late on the night of the a6th January,
1932. How wonderful it was just to speak one’s native tongue
again I Of course I both slept and ate with the self-sacrificing
Swedish missionaries. One of them moved into a cupboard
and gave me his glorious sunny room. In the morning we had
prayers, and someone gave a little sermon, and then we sang
a hymn.

Little by little Norin reached Yarkand too, bringing with
him a very amiable and cheerful botanist. Dr. Liou Chen Ngo.
So at last we were together again, Norin and I. Now we pro-
posed to play our big stake and to make the great journey of
our lives, a journey that had so long been the centre of our
dreams and our longings.

Yarkand was an ideal place for making preparations.
The Swedish missionaries helped us in a thousand ways,
though the valuable help they gave us in making purchases,
and with advice about transport, was no greater than the
pleasure we found in sharing the bread and enjoying the
company of people whom one had to like.

We were not spoiltl My diary records in one place: “ We
live like princes 1 Oatmeal porridge, eggs, anchovies, rissoles
and potatoes, and as much coffee as we can drink.”

From the time of our arrival until the nth March, when we
left the town, my diary is crammed with the most enthusiastic
superlatives about our newly acquired friends. It was a

120

KARAVAN

pleasure to see these missionaries fighting for their high ideals
— ^not on the doctrine that ** the end justifies the means ”,
but on a quite different principle, which no one could fail
to appreciate deeply, a principle which can best be expressed
by the single, but comprehensive word, love.

Quite apart from the question of whether such a fight is
successful or not, it deserves the greatest respect. There in
Chinese Turkestan they were waging it in one of the greatest
strongholds of Mohammedanism, sometimes under the most
difficult conditions imaginable, but always with courage and
hope and a firm faith in the ultimate victory of their ideals.
I remember well defining the missionaries — perhaps I was
thinking in particular of one of them — in a letter I wrote from
Yarkand, as being composed of two elements: a glowing
heart, and self-sacrificing kindness.

When we went away, we left friends for life. Norin went
first. Their farewell to me, as I stood in my white Swedish
student’s cap in a meadow green with spring in glorious
sunshine, to the strains of ” Thou ancient, thou free, thou
mountainous North ”, is one of the memories that has etched
itself into my mind for all time.

Such memories and such people are a very present help
in times of trouble.

Revolution has swept over the land since then. Fanaticism
has celebrated orgies — the cruelty of the Mohammedans
knows no bounds. The missionaries have collected some
heart-rending descriptions of this time of horror in a little
book called Tour Brother's Blood Calls. Sweden’s little cultural
outpost has passed through some hard times, and one of the
young Christians, the gifted Habil, suffered a martyr’s death.

CHAPTER XX

VorotnikofF — Meteorologist and Psychologist

O UR preparations were completed in Karghalik. From
there we sent one provision column after another
southwards, and the stores were laid up in the mountains.

My old friend Liou Dao-Tai had exchanged his more
distinguished position as Governor of the Province for the
more lucrative one of burgomaster of Karghalik. Thanks to
our Dr. Liou’s diplomatic talents and Liou Dao-Tai’s kind-
ness, the business of customs and visas was dispatched without
any difficulty. On the 23rd March, 1 932, we were ready to leave
the town. The last hours were intense, and our heads were
in a whirl. Serr^ poly datchetiy miskal. Jetty chereky

djin — coins and measures — ^were all jumbled up with horses,
mules, donkeys, natives, tents and cases. The great thing was
that nothing should be forgotten.

Norin and Liou set off at midday. By the afternoon I
was ready too. Thirty-two donkeys headed the procession
under Churuk achon, followed by fifty horses under Abdu
Rehim, my new caravan bashi, who, like Churuk achon, was
a fine fellow.

1 had engaged fifteen extra servants for this first march,
which was to be quite short. So often there is trouble at the
beginning. The animals are not accustomed to their burdens,
they are easily frightened, they have a superfluity of energy
from standing so long in their stalls. Suddenly one of our
many stallions took fright, and bolted the whole length of
the caravan. It was like putting a match to gunpowder; all

ISl

123

KARAVAN

the animals stampeded in every direction. The natives threw
off their fur coats, their jackets, their shirts, and toiled for
dear life with the upper part of their bodies naked, sweaty
and breathless, unloading, loading up, straightening, catching,
tying, all in a colossal cloud of dust. By the time we had got
things more or less in hand, all the hired men, who were only
there to help for the first few days, had disappeared.

We encamped in the middle of a field without putting up
the tents. It was an absolute inferno. It was not until eleven
o’clock that I had the animals quietened and could count them
by the light of a lantern. One horse was missing, but by mid-
night we had caught it too. My diary the next day recounts
briefly: “ 24-3. March to Camp 2. Besh-terek. Early to
bed, tired and all in.” But the animals soon settled down, and
the marches passed off peacefully and steadily — southwards —
upwards.

Our third camp was at Kok-yar, the customs station on the
road to India. I always used to have a thermos flask full of
tea with me during marches ; it made a kind of reserve stores,
and could be used in inhabited areas for “ elevenses ”. Vorot-
nikoff had one too; they were made of steel and lasted us the
whole expedition, altogether very useful. But when we got to
KOk-yar, VorotnikofFs thermos flask was empty, although
we had not drunk any tea that day. The inference was clear.

Among all the quantities of new servants there were,
unfortunately, quite a number who had never learnt to be-
have. We had noticed on other occasions that somebody had
been at the sack of talkan^ and the raisins had been tampered
with too. It was tiresome. The talkan — flour baked in fat —
was an important reserve store, intended for occasions when
we ran short of food. A handful of this light-red, sweetish
flour, stirred round with a little water or mixed with snow,
makes an excellent dish which satisfies both hunger and
thirst. The raisins too were an important item, as they repre-
sented the main part of our vitamin supply. This petty pilfer-

VOROTNIKOFF

1*3

ing must be put a stop to, and here was our chance. Vorot-
nikofF had a brainwave.

We called all the servants into the tent, and they knelt
in a semicircle with their hands tucked into their wide, padded
sleeves, while VorotnikofF and I sat on a packing-case in the
centre with the thermos flask between us.

Which of you has been drinking out of this flask ? No one,
absolutely no one. It was very unfortunate. The fact was that
VorotnikofF used that flask to keep some medicine in which
he washed his feet with in the evenings.

There was a deathly silence. One of the young urchins
turned pale, then greyish-green with fright, and began to get
convulsions in the region of his stomach. Suddenly he darted
out through the tent door.

Thanks to much practice, we had developed a certain
amount of histrionic talent. I kept a perfectly straight face
and asked again of those who remained: “ Are you certain it
was none of you?” Oh no, they all said with one voice, none
of them would ever dream of anything so stupid and foolish
as to meddle with sahib’s things without permission. We told
them they could go, and VorotnikofF and I sat on, enjoying the
situation and waiting.

After a few minutes old Hashim came in, the father of
the boy who had turned so pale about the gills. He was in
despair, as he told us that it really was his son who had been
so simple and stupid and had drunk that terrible medicine,
and the tears trickled down his long white beard. He was
absolutely beside himself with fright.

My heart softened — naturally — and I comforted him.
“ My dear fellow, it isn’t as bad as all that. We have more
of that medicine.” Alas, it was of no avail; he cried out with a
despairing gesture: “ Has sahib no heart at all? What is to
be done with my boy ? He is mortally sick. Is there no anti-
dote?”

Oh, the boy. Yes, we hadn’t thought about him. Anti-

184

KARAVAN

dote? N— o. At least, wait — I stroked my beard, symbol of
wisdom, and looked thoughtful — perhaps 1 have something
that might do. I too had had a brainwave.

There was of course quinine in the medicine chest, the
usual means for inducing perspiration and bringing down
temperature, which is so bitter that it brings tears to one’s
eyes even to think of it — ^more bitter than despised love. There
was no doubt about it, quinine was the antidote.

I crushed two tablets and dissolved them in a cup of water.
“ Take this and give him a teaspoonful every quarter of an
hour, so that he never loses the taste of it out of his mouth.
And wrap him up warmly, so that he perspires. We will
hope that, with Our Lord’s help, this will drive the mischief
out of his body.”

Hashim withdrew backwards out of the tent with his hand
on his heart, humbly grateful and happy. A gleam of hope
shone in his eyes.

Next morning, before the sun was up, he was back in
my tent — radiant! ” Would sahib believe, it has really worked.
My boy is quite well again to-day.” ” He must have a mar-
vellously strong constitution,” I replied, and it was no more
than the truth.

Gradually the natives began to understand that it was to
their own interest to obey our orders, and we became good
friends and got on very well.

In Kok-yar also I saw Norin giving his cook his monthly
lesson. Lao Wang was a paragon, his food was always ready
in time and always good, he was always cheerful and in-
dustrious; but sometimes the washing-up was a little sketchy.
At lunch Norin gazed attentively at his plate. Wang!” he
called sternly. Wang’s friendly face appeared in the tent
opening, but fell at once when he saw his master displeased
and angry. Norin handed him the plate in silence but with
eloquent looks. Wang disappeared as though he had been
shot from a gun, and returned ten seconds later with a brilliantly

VOROTNIKOFF

*23

polished plate. Norin looked at it, already satisfied internally,
but externally — no 1 Again the ominous call, “ Wang,”
was heard. Wang was back like lightning. The plate went
out again. A few minutes passed, then Wang appeared with
a clean white apron, a clean napkin on his arm, and a burning
hot plate in his hand. When he had got outside this time,
Norin burst out laughing. “ Well, that will last for a month
at least.”

Our first provision depot in the desert was at Kulan-
6ldi. Transport became a more and more difficult problem
the farther into the hills we penetrated. We had brought some
sacks of sun-dried carrots as a special aid for the horses and
donkeys, in the hope that they would supply the lack of
vitamins. The road was strewn all the way with the whitened
bones — sometimes whole skeletons — of transport animals. It
must have been oppressive for our four-footed friends to jour-
ney on, day in, day out, and never get away from that sight.
The whole of the route from the Kara-koram pass to Leh in
Ladakh is marked out in this gruesome way. The camping-
grounds — ^many of them with macabre names such as Dowlat-
beg-6ldi, ” where the happy beg died ” — are easily recognizable
by their piles of bones, sometimes heaped into fantastically
shaped marks.

Our last big store of grain and rice straw was at Ak-tagh.
There we had to part with Vorotnikoff. His health was too
delicate, and the strain was intense. The worst difficulty was
the great altitude. We had reached 14,900 feet, and as he
could not stand the thin air there — ^he got fainting fits and nose-
bleeding, typical of altitude sickness — it was obvious that we
could not take him with us for the rest of the way, when we
should go over passes more than 1 9,500 feet high, and travel
for months at an average height of about 16,500 feet, never
coming down below 15,800 feet. There was nothing for it
but send him back to Yarkand.

Vorotnikoff was a fine lad. He knew how glad we had

136

KARAVAN

been to have him with us to carry out the meteorological
observations, which were tremendously important for us, and
asked if he could not at any rate stay on in Ak-tagh. He
believed that he would soon become accustomed to the height.
He knew that it would be an invaluable help to us if he could
stay on in Ak-tagh and make regular observations. It was a
severe temptation — and I fell for it and let him stay. Perhaps
it was in any case the wisest thing to do. With his devotion
to his work, it might have injured him more mentally to have
to go back, than it could weaken him physically to stay.

He did his work perfectly and held out there, thanks to
an iron will. Ak-tagh, “ The White Mountain ", was a fright-
ful place; it was fourteen days* march to the nearest human
habitation. His neighbours were the wolf and the lynx. The
water was drinkable but not good, and in any case was scarce.
There was little pasturage, fuel had to be dug laboriously out
of the ground — it was the roots of Artemisia — on a slope
two miles away. He stayed for two months in that cold, windy
spot with a single servant and a little donkey for transport.
It was an achievement!

Erik Norin said in a speech at a dinner given in Peiping
in honour of Sven Hedin’s seventieth birthday: “ Your
enthusiasm, your strength of will, your indomitable patience,
guided our steps and left their mark on every piece of scientific
work we accomplished. It was this infectious enthusiasm that
sustained Vorotnikoff, and enabled him to stay for two months
at the corpse-strewn camping-ground of Ak-tagh, at a height
of 14,900 feet, and carry out an uninterrupted series of mete-
orological observations."

I parted from him sad at heart; who could have known
that, only a few months later, fate would bring us together
again?

CHAPTER XXI

Over the Kara-koram Pass — Via Dolorosa

N ORIN and I chose different routes for the next part of
the way. He went with a small caravan by a previously
unknown northern route, while Dr. Liou and I continued
along the main Kara-koram road. Hedin has called it Via
dolorosa, “ Not without cause,” he says, “ is it marked in red
on the map. In reality it is marked in blood.”

At Balti-brangza, just before the pass, lay the bodies of
three men who had quite recently succumbed. Churuk achon,
himself suffering badly from altitude sickness, saw them
decently buried and a little heap of stones laid over each for
protection against the wolves. It was cold. We had no more
fuel than was needed for the cooking.

At the last camp I had nearly killed one of our men,
Mahmut achon, the tallest of all our servants and one of the
very best. I had taken an astronomical determination of
position, and had told the boys to build a stone obo to mark
the place. When I went to look at it just before we left, I
found it was carelessly built, and began to wedge in some
small stones myself to make it stronger. This brought it down,
and the very top stone went crashing down on the other side
of a bank of earth, where Mahmut was lying, altitude sick.
The stone hit him on the head — ^fortunately the top of the skull
and not the temple. He was not killed, but the wound bled
profusely. That evening at Balti-brangza he was bright and
well, and I was greatly relieved. Not only had he taken no
harm — the bleeding had done him good, and the altitude
sickness had passed off 1

127

KARAVAN

128

The Turkis have a way of sticking a coarse awl into their
horses’ noses until the blood spurts, as soon as their animals
show signs of altitude sickness. There is another method, also
frequently used, which looks even more cruel — ^to drive the
whip handle hard up the animal’s nostrils so that some of the
veins are broken. Strange as it may sound, it must be admitted
that, in some cases at any rate, this treatment works, and I
know one case of a Turki who had the sickness so badly that
he was unconscious, whom his comrades saved by sticking
an awl right through his nose.

On the morning of the 13 th we were up early. We were
going over the Kara-koram pass itself. We had now twenty-
three servants and about 100 animals. I quote from my diary:

“ At half-past seven a deputation came in from the servants
and declared that it was impossible to climb. We should all
perish if we tried. Cut off further discussion by ordering:
‘ Load up the animals. Quickly!’ Several of the horses could
only take quite small burdens. They looked as though they
were intoxicated. We reached the pass at 3.20 p.m. One
horse collapsed just before it. When we got on to it, I thought
the worst was over, but it was just the reverse. First came a
heavy snowstorm, but thank God it was quickly over. Still,
it lasted long enough to chill us right through. On the other
side there were huge snowdrifts. One horse after another
went rolling down. It was very serious. We had to encamp
on rough ground 4500 feet from the pass. We had fuel, but
only enough for the cooking. No work was done in the camp.
We were too tired, lack of fuel is fatal. Almost everyone was
feeling poorly and only wanted to sleep.

“ The 14M. Two more horses died during the night,
fine plump animals. Couldn’t stand the height. The day’s
march was intended to be twenty-one miles, turned out seven.
The snow made it impossible to move faster. The road down
from the pass is strewn with dead animals. Not a trace of
vegetation. The day warm and sunny, signs of wolves every-

THE KARA-KORAM PASS

X29

where. Dr. Liou gives me a little lesson in Chinese every day.
He himself is working hard at his English.”

At Dowlat-beg-dldi, just beyond the pass — the name, as
pointed out above, is in keeping with this ghastly road — we
turned off eastwards to strike into the road Sven Hedin took
in 1908. There was hardly a trace of vegetation, and the
strain on our maize supply was great. The animals suffered
from the cold and the height, but we got along, even if with
difficulty. Determining our positions in the cold and the in-
cessant wind was one of the worst hardships.

On the 20th we were proceeding straight along a broad
valley when Tomes suddenly caught sight of a herd of yak
some distance off. He, Roz achon and I were a good way
ahead of the main caravan. The other two of us dropped down
behind a mound, leaving Tomes to glide on ahead. We were
in luck, the wind was coming towards us. Tomes was a
hunter of standing, and we felt pretty certain of a good
addition to our provisions. But we were wrong. Tomes
suddenly stood straight up and waved to us. We jumped up
on to our mound and looked. Not a sign of the animals. They
must have run up some side valley. But why was Tomes still
waving so frantically.? Ah, there was the “herd” again,
coming up out of a ravine. It was Norin and his caravan 1
We had not expected him yet, and the rejoicings were great.
He had found a better road than the one we had come by.

On the 27th April we were again marching eastwards.
Norin went off to the north, and we sent two men to Karghalik
to get more maize for the animals. That day we saw two herds
of antelopes at a distance, one of males and the other of females.
Dr. Liou found some good fossils, I drew the map. We had
one misfortune, however: two horses and one donkey died.
It was the storms and thin air, far more than the cold, that
killed the animals. Twenty of them had died already.

On the ist May, 1932, we came out on to the great Ak-sai-
chin plain, where the wind was worse than ever. The night

130 KARA VAN

had been bad, with a severe storm. The animals had not had
any water in the evening, and had broken loose and got away.
We moved on with the few of them that still remained in the
camp to Ak-sai-chin lake, where Sven Hedin had once made
his camp, and where Dr. Trinkler had been only a few years
before. The night of the storm had cost us thirteen animals.
We had hoped that Ak-sai-chin would provide good pasturage,
and our animals get back their strength there; but we were
disappointed. The Chief had described the place as a real
oasis, and we thought many hard thoughts about him at the
time. It turned out later that we were both right. I came
back there at the end of July, and then it was an oasis.

When Norin joined me at Ak-sai-chin on the 5th May, and
we were able to discuss the difficulties of the situation together,
we decided there was nothing to do but part. There was no
possibility of continuing the entire transport any farther with
the animals we had at our disposal. Maize supplies were
running short, and the beasts were dying one after another.
One of us had to go back to civilization to get some healthy
animals. It was decided that Norin and Liou should go on
eastwards with the thirty-three relatively strong donkeys and
mules, while I took practically the whole of our travelling
funds and went back to the inhabited districts to the north to
etjuip a fresh caravan, and then try to strike out another path
eastwards. Where we should meet again it was not easy to
say. Each was to fend for himself henceforward. We parted
with a long handshake on the 9th May.

I went a little way with Norin’s caravan when it set out,
just long enough to see one of the donkeys sink down, unable
to get up again. It was a bad omen, and they had a hard
journey. At the end they and their servants had to carry
the most indispensable things on their own backs, and the
natives had almost given up hope. But Norin’s stubborn will
overcame the difficulties, and they reached civilization again,
with one of their aninuls alive.

Via Dolorosa

The boundary mark between China and India in the Kara-koram Pass^
18^200 feet above sea-level

Among the Kirghiz at Keng-shewar — a yak with her calf

CHAPTER XXII

The Advantages of Jiu-Jitsu

AS soon as I had set up my pendulum station at Ak-sai-
jljL chin, I went back by a different route across one of the
“ white patches ” on the map, and reached Keng-shewar on
the 7th June. I had sent a message to VorotnikofF at Ak-tagh,
and he was there to meet me. He took charge of the money
and went for me to Sanju to get new animals and exchange
what we had for others in better condition. Once more the
missionaries gave us every help. While VorotnikofF was away
getting the fresh batch of animals, I occupied myself working
in the Kirghiz mountains in the district between Keng-shewar
and Kawak, and on over “ white ” ground to the area im-
mediately south of Haji-langar. I waited there for the new
animals, and when they joined me we set out for our old camp
at Ak-sai-chin lake. The lively little Dowlat and the ex-
perienced old mountaineer Awot achon had been there for
two and a half months, looking after the stores we had left
behind.

On the 23rd July we were only two days’ march away from
their camp at the south-west corner of Ak-sai-chin lake. The
distance was forty miles, just right for two marches, and half-
way lay a well-defined chain of hills, where we were to encamp
that evening. The main caravan, under the lame but compe-
tent Abdu Rehim, was to follow the known and easily negoti-
able route that ran in a wide circle to the south, while I myself,
with Tomes, two Turkis, and a little donkey to carry the in-
struments, took a previously unexplored short cut. According
(rwM) m to

KARAVAN

13a

to the map a small lake lay between my proposed route and
the course the main caravan was to follow. We reached that
lake at about five o’clock in the afternoon. But it was not
what the map had led us to expect; it extended some distance
to the north, or rather it was two lakes, connected by a narrow
sound. To go round either of them would have taken several
hours. Our chain of hills, as the crow flies, was not more than
about three miles away. The best course seemed to be to try
and wade through the narrow sound so as to reach camp
before it grew dark, and the boys took off their shoes and
stockings — I myself had watertight boots.

It always used to be cloudy in the day-time on these high
plateaux, but generally it cleared in the late afternoon. This
particular day, however, was not quite like the general run.
I shall never forget it.

The clouds gathered closer and closer. The clean, white
cumulus of the morning gave place to ominous-looking dark-
grey nimbus. The storm broke just as we waded out into the
sound, the thunder pealed and the lightning cut deep scars
across the sky. Suddenly the rain came in a deluge. A momen-
tary lull was followed by a violent scurry of hail, and then the
rain set in again heavier than ever.

This particular spot was the lowest in a large area, and
all the rivers flowed towards it from every point of the com-
pass. The water rose, and the shores of the lakes being flat,
this meant that their area rapidly increased, and the sound grew
to many times its original breadth. Of course the water was
shallow, but things were bad enough all the same. The ground
was a fine loose clay soil, which became soft and treacly to walk
through. For us humans it was not too bad, for we had large
feet with good surfaces for support, but a donkey has thin
legs and quite small hooves. At every step she sank down
into the mud, and found it harder and harder to draw her
feet out again. At last she stuck fast. We had all the packs
off her like lightning and tried to lift her up, but it was more

THE ADVANTAGES OF JIU-JITSU 133

than we could do. Then I decided to hurry on ahead to get
help from the camp, while Tomes and the Turkis tried to hold
the donkey up.

We had four horses at the camp. I expected to be back in
no time with a few men, some poles and ropes, and the situation
would be saved. But the rain was terrible, it was a positive
cloud-burst. I was soaked to the skin, and however much you
want to, you cannot walk fast when your feet stick to the
ground at each step you take, and your boots are full of water.
Besides, it was getting late in the evening. We had been
walking since early morning, and had eaten nothing since
breakfast. It took me a little time to reach the promontory.

There was no sign of the camp, and I climbed up a hillock
about 1 50 feet high to look for it. I scanned the terrain inch
by inch with my field-glasses. No tents, no men, no animals,
no fire, no smoke. Where had they got to ?

They had not obeyed my orders to go on to the promon-
tory, but had encamped somewhere else, I had no idea where.
By now it was almost six o’clock, and it was nearly dark;
twilight only lasts a few short moments there. My pocket-
lamp was away in the saddle-bags with the things the donkey
had been carrying. My matches were soaked, and that meant
that there was no possibility of lighting a fire. In any case
all available fuel was drenched, so that it really made no
difference.

What had happened at the scene of the tragedy.^ It was
not difficult to guess. Of course they would not have been
able to hold the poor animal up very long, it must have drowned.
I reckoned too that the servants would have taken the things
up on to some safe hillock and encamped there for the night
with the aid of the donkey’s saddle-cloths. I guessed right,
apart from the fact that Tomes did not stay with the others,
when the donkey drowned, but followed in my tracks to tell
me what had happened.

I was entirely alone. What was I to do? To search for

134

KARAVAN

Abdu Rehim and his camp was hopeless. To try and retrace
my steps, without light — equally hopeless. There remained
one possibility. We had left Dowl^t and Awot about twenty
miles away to the east, looking after the stores we had to dump
there when we turned back to get the new animals. I knew
that I could find my way to that camp in the dark. So: forward
march 1

I moved slowly with heavy steps. Suddenly it occurred to
me that perhaps the camp might be quite near after all, and
that they might be out looking for us, and would hear a
shout. I shouted, I yelled. Far away to the west I thought I
heard an answer, and I shouted again, I bellowed at the top
of my voice. No, that time there was no answer.

I went on again grimly, for perhaps a quarter of an hour,
and then I thought: when all is said and done, it costs nothing
to shout, there is no harm in doing it again. This time there
actually came an answering shout, quite close at hand. I sank
down on the ground and waited. The voice came nearer;
an angry voice. It was Tomes, who with his sharp eyes had
succeeded in following my tracks. He thought he had found
the main camp, and was very indignant that there was no fire.
When he saw that it was I, his master, and no other, he grew
considerably more polite in his tone, though one could still
detect a certain degree of disappointment that it was only
me. In any case it was good to be two.

Tomes told me that the donkey had drowned and the two
Turkis had found night quarters for themselves. We dis-
cussed what to do about the camp, and he thought, like me,
that the best thing was to continue eastwards towards the
Ak-sai-chin camp. It was a melancholy march. Every now
and then we flung ourselves down on the ground, sitting back
to back to support each other a little while we rested. We
comforted ourselves wth the thought of what we would do to
Abdu Rehim and his natives when we got hold of them, and
we glowed to think of it. If burning rage had the power to

white patch ” on the map investigated by Erik Norin

The robber chief , second from the right, was

THE ADVANTAGES OF JIU-JITSU 135

warm, we should have been extremely comfortable. As it was,
we were heartily miserable. Still, we were lucky in one way:
the moon came out and shone, and we found our way easily,
but it shone not brightly but through low, light clouds, so
that the temperature remained tolerable.

We reached the camp at seven o’clock on the morning of
the 24th, and dug Dowlat and Awot out of bed. They thought
we must have dropped straight from heaven, coming at that
strange time of day, and with no trace of a caravan. Soon the
tea was simmering, the first necessity of life in the high plateaux
of Tibet, and we began to revive. This time I did not get
away entirely unscathed. I had been wearing my excellent
boots, which were watertight, but the water had got in through
the tops, my stockings had felted, and I had two nasty sores
on each foot, so that I had to keep quiet until the 5th August.
I spent the time developing my photographs and arranging
my herbarium.

The main caravan arrived at the Ak-sai-chin camp on the
24th July, and I read the riot act to Abdu Rehim and all his
suite. “ If ever it happens again that anyone is not in camp
in the evening, and there is not a large fire burning on high
ground where it is clearly visible, I warn you to look out for
yourselves.”

There are two things that one can threaten with, both
equally terrifying: a reduction of wages, or — a beating.
Perhaps the latter sounds a little brutal ? But in actual fact it
was an excellent method, absolutely the right one. I had never
tried it until I was in Yarkand, and then I was taught its
virtues by one of the missionaries — by a ladyl

One day a new servant had been up to some mischief,
and I dismissed him summarily. A lovely, womanly being
came straightway in to see me, and said: ” How could you
be so hard on that poor fellow and dismiss him for such a
little thing? It would have been quite enough if you had
given him a good beating 1” I tried to defend myself. “ You

KARAVAN

136

can’t do that to a full-grown man ?” “ Don’t be so silly, it’s
the only thing these people have any respect for. Try itl
You will find it works wonders!”

Alas, maladies that needed that medicine were of frequent
occurrence. I had one ” case ” in Ak-tagh. I forget what it
was that Sherip achon had been up to, but I was livid with
rage and I let fly at him. Just to be on the safe side, I dis-
missed him afterwards too. That was not altogether in the
true missionary spirit, I admit, but there it is — I was as angry
as that. When Vorotnikoff sent me those new animals some
months later, a few new servants came with them too. To my
intense surprise I saw among them — Sherip achon !

He came up to me, rather nervous and frightened — he
was a big, strong fellow — and wondered whether I would
take him on again, for he had “ been so happy with sahib
before !”• Of course I took him on, and he became one of our
very best servants.

Anyone personally acquainted with the author’s size and
physique might perhaps think that this was rather dangerous.
Suppose one of those Turkis had happened to think of hitting
back?

Ah, dear reader, that contingency was provided against.
Just after we left Yarkand, I gathered all the servants together
outside the tent one evening. Who was the strongest ? They
pointed to Tursun achon, one of the youngest, but a man with
the strength of two. “ Come on, my boy, we will try a bout
of arm-twisting 1” (A form of Jiu-Jitsu.)

Tursun achon had never done it before, but I had learnt
the art from my father, who was an expert at this trick.

First with the right arm, then, and again with the left
just for safety’s sake. Twice in succession Tursun achon lay
low. The ease with which this particular trick is accom-
plished by those who know it added twofold to the effect.
The expressions on the faces of the onlookers testified to their
amazement.

THE ADVANTAGES OF JIU-JITSU 137

The servants’ respect for their master was great. He was
strong, he was old, and he was wise, as his beard proved, which
was impressively long, curly and red. But handsome ? ?

CHAPTER XXIII

Goal of Our Ambitions

O UR proud caravan moved across the endless plains of
Chang Tang: 90 donkeys, 4 horses, 3 mules, 2 goats,
I dog, 13 Turkis, i Mongol and i Swede. We bore steadily
eastwards, between barren hills and wide valleys, sometimes
skirting a dark-green pool of water, the edge of which shone
white with precipitated salt. No trees or bushes, no houses
or fields, no human beings to be seen, no trace even of nomads
or hunters. Vegetation was rare, and always poor and stunted.
A desert land, which is ruled and owned by yak and antelope,
wild horse and wolf, marmot and bear; a land where cold
and storm are the bitterest enemies of man and animal ; where
the fight against them is waged for life or death, and where
the forces of nature are always the stronger.

Vast open spaces that have never before been viewed by
human eyes lure one on with all the charm of the unexplored,
but they claim heavy tribute from anyone who sets out to lead
a caravan safe and sound through those silent, inhospitable,
awful hills, where death is always on the watch.

Just occasionally the eye of the traveller will be rejoiced
by some beautiful sight. This is not merely pleasant, it is
beneficial. The happy hours are few enough, the sad ones all
too many.

Sap-bulak-kol was one of our big stations. The name
was connected with the many springs there were round the
lake, which had no visible outflow, though as the water was
fresh, it probably had one underground — ^presiunably towards
the north. We had christened it ourselves, and I tried to

1S8

GOAL OF OUR AMBITIONS

139

choose a name that the servants would find easy to remember,
and that had some connexion with the topography or other
characteristics of the spot. Just as we stepped on to a small
terrace covered with yellow, dry, prickly grass. Tomes caught
sight of three baby hares. Their mother had been frightened
away, and had left the little ones defenceless on the ground.

We were to stay there some time, it was one of our pen-
dulum stations. The little ones spent the first night out, as
we hoped their mother would come back and take charge of
them. But she never came, so they had to come into the tent
with Tomes and me, and we fed them on goat’s milk and other
good things. When we left the place. Tomes, the friend of
animals, built them a little hut, and gathered them a store of
roots and grass in the hope that they would be able to look
after themselves now.

Another rather delightful incident happened there. Birds
are extremely rare on these high plateaux, but there we found
one, a little sparrow-like, twittering creature. Having no
trees to build in, he had made his nest among the hummocks
on the ground, weaving small pieces of straw skilfully together
to make an almost circular, practical and well-built nest.

South of Sap-bulak-k6l lay a wide plain, bounded in the
far distance by the topmost peaks of the Kara-koram chain.
It was a promised land for wild animals, and there I saw the
most beautiful sight my eye has ever encountered.

Early one morning I was walking alone, far ahead of the
caravan, making my map, when I stopped on a little sandhill
to measure some of the white peaks on the other side of the
plain. Between them and me lay a lake, towards which three
wild geese had just been winging. Nature was quiet and
melodious, the sun shone from a clear sky, the shadows were
still long. Suddenly a kulan^ or wild horse, appeared close
beside me as though he had been conjured up by magic. He
was light brown, almost yellow, and lighter underneath; he
had thin legs but large hooves, a thick mane and a funny.

KARAVAN

X40

thin tail like a mule’s; he was strong and muscular, and had
a lovely glossy coat. With the body of a pony he had the head
of an Ardennes horse, but longer and narrower. His huge,
inquisitive eyes were staring at me.

We began to talk to each other. “ You’re a handsome
fellow,” I said. ” You are ugly,” he said. “ Where did you
get those funny hooves ? And your coat is in a shocking state.
Why do you stand on your hind legs like that, and what a
funny mane you have. Have you lost your tail ?” After open-
ing our hearts to each other like this for a little while, I asked
him if he would stand quite still for a moment, so that I could
take his photograph. “ Yes,” he nodded, “ but make haste,
for I am not quite sure about you. There are things called
human beings, that I have heard rumours about, and they are
dangerous and unreliable. I don’t mean to insult you, but the
description fits you quite well, although, of course, I thought
they always had those long firearms with them.”

I drew my little Leica-camera slowly and cautiously out
of my pocket; I did not altogether trust his promise, though
I thought we understood one another quite well. Slowly,
slowly up to my eye — click !

I ought to have known what would happen. He ran away,
and I saw what a fool I had been. Why couldn’t I have stood
still a moment longer and enjoyed the sight of my beautiful
companion instead of frightening him away like that.? And
it was with shame that I took out my notebook and wrote;
” Wild horse, kulan^ distance about fifty feet, stop F9, yellow
filter I ”, &c. It was a great disappointment to me that that
photograph did not come out.

But the kulan was not fooling me. He had not been
frightened — on the contrary, he was extremely interested.
He had run back behind the hill, where a little valley lay,
full of green grass; a patch of soft meadowland, sprinkled
with almost microscopic blue gentians and lilac-scented
orchids. Green grass may not sound very much to our ears.

GOAL OF OUR AMBITIONS 141

but a patch like that is a singular rarity in this high, barren
land. It was not by any means the usual dry, prickly grass,
but a velvety, thick, lush carpet, an oasis, a pearl, or perhaps
the pearl of this whole kingdom, a kingdom ruled not by men
but by animals whose peace had never been violated.

This paradise had drawn not merely one kulan^ but many.
The one who had been up to look at me was the leader. He
ran back to his herd and told them: “ Here is a strange, two-
legged animal, the like of which I have never seen. Not very
tidy, but very interesting. Come and look at him. But make
haste, for he may have taken fright on seeing me and run away.”

They came galloping by in a long line, eleven of them in
a wide half-circle, prouder than the purest thoroughbreds,
lifting their feet high in the Spanish step, throwing up their
superb heads in a quick backward, upward movement.
Suddenly the whole line stood still. That was the leader, at
the end of the phalanx. There was no doubt about it. The
little white star was his special mark. I was an astronomer,
and he had a star, “ nescit occasum ”, on his chest. That
must have been why we understood each other so well.

We stood silent for a long time in mutual astonishment.
Nature herself sometimes holds divine service — she does
often, though we do not always stop to listen to the sermon,
which is the most beautiful and the deepest imaginable.
But this time one could not help but see, rejoice and be moved.

The leader, farthest to the right, pricked up his ears and
listened. Perhaps he heard the jingling of the bells from the
caravan, and thought it best to part while we were still friends.
He nodded, and with a quick toss of the head led his herd
winding away towards the south, so that I saw the whole line
silhouetted against the magnificent background of the dark-
green lake with its white salt shores, the shimmering yellow
slope on the other side, and on the horizon the blue hills
reflecting the sun’s rays brightly from their ice-capped peaks,
the lines of which were moulded soft with snow.

KARAVAN

Then they turned east by north and vanished up the
valley behind the hill.

The caravan appeared far away to the west in a cloud
of dust, and I too began to hear the bells.

But there was something still to come — the ceremony was
not over, its very climax remained. The leader was a good
stage manager; he had learnt from Our Lord himself. He
knew that the most beautiful background for the proud beasts
of the mountain steppes is the intense clear blue, merging
into black, of the sky.

He led his herd up through the sunshine on to the ridge
of the hill which lay to the north behind the sandhill, and they
galloped past, in sharp silhouette, with heads thrown high,
wild flying manes, and tails straight out, away to the distant
open spaces, where pasturage is scant but peaceful — the goal
of their happy dreams.

The goal of our ambitions ” — photograph taken from a height of 18,800 feet

CHAPTER XXIV

A Change of Course — Difficult Days

E very traveller who sets out for northern Tibet prepares
his expedition with laborious care. He collates the
experiences of earlier travellers, chooses the best time of
year, prays that his animals may endure the strain, hopes and
trusts in his lucky star; he will succeed.

But he cannot. His enterprise is doomed to tragedy. If
he is fundamentally honest, he will hear a voice within him
saying: “ It can’t be done, but do your best. When the time
comes that you have lost so many of your animals that you
cannot continue according to your plans, mind you see to
it that at least you are able to bring the remainder of your
caravan back in safety to inhabited regions. See to it that
no human life lies heavy on your conscience. Remember the
merciless wind, the biting cold, the poor, scant pasturage, the
lack of water and fuel. Remember the frightful thinness of
the air, remember that everything is conspiring to suck the
life out of your animals. Know that your path is marked
with skeletons, that the camping-grounds are churchyards,
that nature is pitilessly hard.”

I said in a previous chapter that it is not merely pleasant
but positively beneficial to come across something beautiful.
It is necessary^ to counteract all the horrible things that weigh
you down and bring you nearly to despair.

In the evening, when all the work was done, Abdu Rehim,

the caravan bashi, used to come in to me for a cup of Lipton’s

144

KARAVAN

tea with sugar, a great delicacy, which he would drink with
obvious relish while I entered his report in my diary. It was
becoming more and more monotonous and gruesome. On
the 1st October, 1932, only sixty animals remained of the
original ninety-seven, and we were entering on a particularly
difficult phase of our journey. The animal register for the
week from the ist to the 7th October contains the following
grim entry under the column headed “ Died during the day ” :
“ 2 donkeys, 3 donkeys, i donkey, 2 donkeys, 6 donkeys, i
donkey, i donkey.” Seven days had thus reduced our animal
reserve to forty-four, and we lost another four on the eleventh.

We were in the middle of a white patch on the map.
Our programme hitherto had been : forward at any price, on
towards the east, explore the largest possible area. Try to
carry out a connected triangulation covering the whole of the
district we pass through. Now this was totally changed; our
first object must be, if we were to avoid imminent disaster,
to make our way to some place where the animals could rest
and recover their strength. Should we head north or south
All our instincts drew us towards the south, towards Lhassa,
the mysterious, unknown. For two days we worked in that
direction ; but then I thought again.

Tibet and its inhabitants are inhospitable, cruel. There
was only one in all our caravan who could speak Tibetan.
We had almost no money. Would it not be better to go north-
wards, towards Chinese Turkestan again There we should
meet people whose language we could all speak, people
hospitable by nature and with whom we were already on good
terms. We should have better prospects of reorganizing our
caravan there where everything was cheap, and that road too
led over unknown country.

We set our course due north, with Chinese Turkestan our
goal again. The road became bad and the marches infinitely
more difficult.

The mountain chains run from east to west. Previously

DIFFICULT DAYS

145

we had gone the long way of the valleys, now we were going
across the hills, up and down all the time. The farther north
we went, the more austere grew the country. My diary for
the 26th October runs:

“ Last night was bad, minimum — 9° F. At midnight
the wind got up from the south-west. This morning 4 donkeys
lay frozen to death close beside the tent. Two more are as weak
as they can be, 8 bad, 1 5 tolerable. We were late setting off.
At the end of the first 3 miles the catastrophe came. The
2 died, 8 refused to go on. There was nothing for it but to
drain the bitter cup. We dumped the whole pendulum appa-
ratus, the meteorological station, the photographic apparatus,
and even 2 cases of documents. All personal belongings,
both my own and the servants. Everyone must carry what
he needs himself. I have kept a change of underclothes and
three pairs of stockings. Thus lightened, we marched on
towards a pass, north 35° east. The caravan moved slowly
under an atmosphere of oppression which grew no better
when we finally had to encamp. Not a trace of green stuff, no
tissekt no water. Consequently no fire, and this with a mini-
mum temperature of —4° F. Sometimes it seems almost
too much of a good thing. Yet we had one piece of good
fortune. Tomes had cooked a big pan of rice in the morning
with yak fat. It only had to be warmed a little and I had a
few sticks with me which served for that purpose, though
I had intended to fix them into the ohos with particulars of
who built them, &c., for the benefit of Norin and Liou. We
had two thermos flasks full of tea. We spun it out with talkan^
and strangely enough no one complained.

“ There behind us lies the result of four years’ work —
shall I ever get it back ? A catastrophe like to-day’s is a bad
strain on the nerves. May we be spared any more of the
same sort. All my hopes of setting up a pendulum station
on the edge of the high plateau have been shattered. The
programme is no longer, ‘ Carry out the triangulation at any

146

KARAVAN

price but * Save the remnants of the caravan, and organize
a rescue party as quickly as possible from inhabited regions
to pick up the things we dumped *.

“ay/io. The night minimum —15® F. Two more of
the animals died, our last remaining mule and the big white
donkey. We have been trudging on for 17 days without
rest. Of the provisions there remain 40 eherek^ of maize,
15 cherek of maize flour, 15 cherek of rice, 14 cherek of flour,
5 cherek of talkan. This evening we have fuel and water.
Tomes is hard at it baking bread in the ashes, roasting mutton,
and making soup. We have as much tea as we want — and that
is a great thing. One of the goats. Tomes’ footwarmer, has
died. The other still gives us every day a little drop of milk,
which is poured into a big jar of brick-tea with salt. This is
a Mongolian patent, and tastes excellent.

“ The hills we have been travelling over consist mainly
of grey and greyish-green types of rock, extraordinarily inter-
mixed. The big valley we followed yesterday and part of
to-day showed the most varied dips and bands on the faces
of the rock, some of which were 60 feet high. From point
9191-9192 we had red rocks instead, preponderantly sand-
stone.”

Our road led steadily northwards and became more and
more difficult. Vegetation ceased altogether, fuel became
extremely scarce, water grew rarer and rarer at the camping-
places. The climax came when we had to cross the big pass
over the main wall of the Kun-lun range itself. To go back
to my diary:

“ An early start for the pass. We went slowly, but the
road leading up was good. Tavekkul and I arrived first.
We went on up a peak to the west of the pass to make a tri-
angulation, but before I could do it I had to thaw my fingers
by setting fire to some pieces of paper I luckily had in my
pocket. Then came the descent, which was the worst I have

^ 1 chenk — i7lb.

DIFFICULT DAYS

*47

ever experienced. Tomes had gone on ahead with the horse.
Suddenly the beast stumbled in the snow, which had ice
underneath it. There was a crash, and down they went. The
slope was 30*. Tomes found .a foothold on a projecting rock
and managed to hold the horse, which lay on its side just
at the edge of a precipice. He whipped his knife out of his
boot leg and cut the rope which held the packs; the tent and
sleeping-kit went hurtling over the precipice and came to rest
some 2000 feet below. Tomes got his hand round the horse's
nose and drew it with him up the slope, and so they were
saved. The ‘ road ’ is such that one is tempted to ask. Quo
vadis?"

The days and nights which followed were terrible. Three
days brought us forward a mile and a half through break-
neck country. The packs had to be lowered down perpen-
dicular precipices by rope. So had the animals, one donkey
after another, their hooves tied together. Poor creatures 1
To crown our misfortunes we suflfered from the lack of three
incredibly necessary things: water, fodder and fuel.

On the first day we sacrificed the tent poles and thawed
some ice, which thank God there was, to get water for the
animals. The men had to make do with talkan. It was a
blessing that we still had that. Mixed with finely crushed ice
it satisfied both hunger and thirst. The animals had to have
water^ otherwise they could not eat their maize — there was
no trace of any green stuff for them.

The second day. The same desperate situation. Abdu
Rehim suggested that we should sacrifice the two wooden
packing-cases. They held the radio, chronometers, and
barograph — ^impossible. But the lids! We chopped them
up, and the axe handle went after them into the fire. The
donkeys were led to the tent door one by one and given each
a measure of icy water. Tomes and Tavekkul sat by the fire
to see that none of the unreliable Turkis took it for them-
selves.

(rtoz) u

148 KARAVAN

The third day. The situation still the same — which means
that it was many times worse. For the third day running we
were without the three necessities of life. Everyone was very
depressed, some of the Turkis had given up hope altogether.

It is the will of Allah that we should perish. His will be
done. Praised and glorified be his holy name.”

No, I thought, it is not Our Lord’s will, and I was certain
that we were near salvation. Far away to the north-west
we could just see a valley covered with a sort of mist; it must
contain water. If there was water, there would also be pas-
turage and fuel. If we could only get there, we were saved.
We must I But how?

A thin stream of smoke rose from behind a pile of sacks.
Kurban achon had kept back and hidden some pieces of the
tent poles, and was making himself a private fire on his own
account. I gave him a good beating, which perhaps warmed
him just as well, and took charge of the sticks myself. With
the help of these and my last remaining book, a volume of
Sven Hedin’s big scientific work. Central Asia, we thawed a
few more drops of water. As. the leaves blackened one by one
in the flames, the print and the pictures still showed clear
in the glowing ashes. It made not only water, it made boiling
water, tea. We sacrificed two packets of sugar, and everyone
had a cup of glorious hot tea and a handful of sugar, which is
an excellent stimulant and a nourishing food. Life stirred in
us again. The covers were laid over the donkeys, tied close
together to keep them warm, and soon snores were heard on
all sides.

Tomes and Tavekkul helped me with the determinations
of latitude and time, the theodolite was packed up, and Tavek-
kul snuggled down beside the solitary goat. Tomes and I
set the wireless station up, and at one o’clock at night, sitting
in my sleeping-bag, I picked up the Rugby time signal
and got the longitude fixed. Then I took out the valves and
packed them in their cardboard boxes, unscrewed the aerial.

DIFFICULT DAYS

*49

disconnected the accumulator, and put everything in its
place. Five minutes later we were all asleep.

The fourth day. An early start. The country grew better
and better. Bare rocks gave way to rounded hills. Tiny
plants began to appear here and there. At half-past eleven
we reached the spur of a hill, from the left of which a stream
gurgled merrily down a channel in the ice. The slope on the
other side gleamed yellow with dry grass. There was bursa
and tissek in plenty, traces of kulan and yak, traces of human
beings. We were saved. Camp 1

It was the 6th November, 1932, the three-hu'ndredth
anniversary of the battle of Ltitzen.

All the servants lay in a row along the edge of the ice
and sipped their fill of the elixir of life. The horse and the
donkeys went mad with joy. Soon fires were crackling, pans
bubbling, laughter ringing out, men singing, everyone’s
face radiant with renewed life. Tomes made jam of the rem-
nants of the dried fruit, Abdu Rehim took the last of the fat
and cooked a rich pilau, Emir achon stewed soup in the water
bucket. Everyone patted themselves on the stomach. Chil
danced round with a big bone in his mouth, the men sat
round the fires holding out their open hands to the blaze and
warming themselves. I myself went about taking photographs,
and never have I failed so utterly as I did then. But I suc-
ceeded with one thing.

There were three poles set up at a little distance from the
camp, and from the top of the tallest of them waved a yak’s
tail. I concentrated all my powers on convincing my better
self that this could not possibly represent a religious symbol,
but was simply a landmark intended to guide the shepherds
to an excellent pasturage, and I solemnly promised that
I would build an obo there which would show up much, much
better. I succeeded admirably with myself, and returned to
camp with the poles. The three of them were lashed firmly
together into one, and a flag tied securely to the top.

150

KARAVAN

Then I watched with tears in my eyes and with humble
pride as the flagstaff went up and the wind unfurled the big
Swedish flag.

It was a grand idea. At home thousands upon thousands
of blue-and-yellow banners were waving that day in honourable
rivalry as to which could come nearest heaven. None, none,
flew so unthinkably high, so indescribably free, as mine!

“ If only that wretch Mahmed Emin had not destroyed
all the poetry of it. To think that he could sink to anything
so mean as to steal my butter, even if it was rancid and green
and only half a pound. I thrashed him so that my arm is
still aching. And then I went in and cried quietly.”

• •••••••#•

That evening Chil lay on the flap of the tent with hoar
frost on his coat and dozed, while I stood drinking in a last
look at the camp.

My lucky star was shining.

CHAPTER XXV

Dalai-kurghan — Charchan

“ ^nr'O-DAY it is a hundred days since we last saw a human
X being, and I have promised the boys that we shall
reach Dalai-kurghan to-morrow and meet people who speak
their tongue.”

That march proved more difficult than I had expected.
First of all we had to get over a high pass. The road up was
not too bad, but the road down was difficult, a narrow wind-
ing passage with nasty drops at two places, only about three
feet high, it is true, but completely covered with ice. The
loads had to be taken off, lifted down, and packed on again.
The thirteen donkeys had to be lowered down on ropes, and
one, which had broken two hooves up on the big pass, died.

At three o’clock in the afternoon, I hurried on ahead with
Tavekkul. The suspense was unbearable. Should we reach
human habitations that day? We needed to badly enough, but
it looked pretty hopeless. The sun was already setting, and
Tavekkul probably thought this talk about finding people
again was simply a trick of mine to rouse the men to a last
effort. At about six we turned a sharp corner, and the valley
suddenly became well watered. From the other side of it,
just to our left, rose a thin stream of smoke.

At lastl A cave had been scooped out on the wide terrace,
and inside was a fireplace on which the tUsek lay still smoul-
dering, but alas — ^no people. We called and shouted — ^no
answer. A shepherd had evidently been there at some time
during the day to warm himself at the fire. The hillmen
make their fires of sheep manure, as they do in Karanghtt*

lei

KARAVAN

15 *

tagh, and it goes on smouldering for a long time, if it is not
blown or stirred. I felt quite sad and disappointed, and
thought Our Lord might have let my prophecy come true.
But one should never find fault with Providence. It knew
what it was about when it arranged for that shepherd to have
gone away. That place was xo/ Dalai-kurghan.

Beside us ran a rippling brook, and we followed a well-
trodden path, constantly crossing the little brook, which
wound from one side of the terrace to the other. There were
stepping-stones all the way, and we went completely dry-
shod. The rock faces at our side grew more and more sheer,
the vegetation was monotonous but thick. Four horses were
browsing on a slope to the north-west.

At half-past seven we smelt smoke again, and increased
our pace excitedly, until we saw an old woman standing
baking maize bread. Tavekkul would have pushed in front,
but I grasped him by the arm and whispered; “ M4h awSl"
—Me first. We advanced together towards the old woman,
our hands on our hearts. “ Salaam, aleikum.” She answered:
“Aleikum salaam!" And our first question was; “What
do you call this place?” '' Dalai-kurghan^' she replied, as
though it were a self-obvious fact and with ill-concealed
surprise at our ignorance. Tavekkul was a head taller than
1, but believe me, he looked up to me all the same at that.

That evening my prestige went up — I could almost
watch the mental process in Tavekkul, and his respect was
even greater for the little object 1 always held in my hand —
Jolneng saati, the road-clock, as the Turkis called my compass.
That and the friendly stars had guided us well.

I was proud as a cock, happy as a lark, and grateful as a
child.

I had opened my purse that morning and taken out a
silver dollar and put it in my pocket, and on our day’s march
Tavekkul and I agreed that the first child we met should have
it. But it had grown so late by now that all the children were

CHARCHAN

133

in bed, so I gave the coin to the old woman instead, with
strict injunctions that she was to pass it on to her youngsters.
She brightened up at this hard proof that we were gentlemen,
and offered us maize bread in a much friendlier mood. Then
she told us that all the inhabitants of the village were away —
there were only three families in any case — but a mile or so
farther east we should find real houses and plenty of people
at Konche-bulak. “ There is even an Ak-sakal there.”

We went. It was pitch dark by the time we got our night
quarters with Tord achon and his wife. They cleared out the
shed, swept the floor, laid down rush mats and kigtz, and
sent a messenger at once to the Ak-sakal, who lived six miles
away. He arrived about ten o’clock, bringing with him a
newly slaughtered sheep, two donkeys loaded with fuel —
which was scarce in this district — ^freshly baked bread, and
best of all — z melon 1

Tord achon had collected eggs, milk, and cream. As
there was no frying-pan, I made an omelette in an iron soup
tureen. Tavekkul had gone back with a donkey and a few
men to show our people the road, so I sat there alone stuffing
myself, while a group of Turkis sat round me marvelling at
this strange new animal with the terrific appetite. “ Where
does sahib come from?” — “ From the hills ” — sweeping
gesture. A little boy sitting in a corner pulled at his father’s
coat-sleeve and asked: ” AdSm >»«?” — A. man, is it? Yes, it
was a man, though rather a funny one. There had been others
like him there about thirty years before: Sven Hedin and
Sir Aurel Stein.

At half-past ten Tavekkul and Emir achon arrived with
two packing-cases and my bed. Tomes had been as thoughtful
^s ever. The two packing-cases contained my chronometers.
The main caravan had stopped at Dalai-kurghan. The little
place where we had seen the fire was called Sape Chap. How
lucky for me that there had been no one there, or my prophecy
would have been belied.

*54

KARAVAN

I 3ent a rescue caravan from Konche>bulak to fetch all
the things we had dumped on the way, and gave Abdu Rehim
and Emir achon exact instructions how to go, taking a some-
what more easterly route. They did their job perfectly. Not
one thing did I lose, but I had an anxious time until they got
back. I spent the interim doing writing work and making a
triangulation in the village.

When all the various instruments arrived, I set up a
pendulum station and then moved on to the little town of
Charchan on the river Charchan-darya. I was to stay there
for some time. I paid my visit to the burgomaster, Shu Darin,
on the very first day, and was informed that he had received
orders from Urumsti that I was not to leave the town until
the central authorities had been notified. The Governor-
General had foreseen that I might crop up on the southern
boundary of the Taklamakan desert, and had sent orders in
good time to the governors of all the towns. In addition, Shu
Darin requested me not to take any photographs. This was
aggravating to the last degree. If he had forbidden me straight
out, I could have taken no notice, but when he asked me,
I had to obey in order not to “ lose face ”.

CHAPTER XXVI

Private Lessons in Chinese

F or some days 1 strained all my diplomatic powers in an
effort to get round the Governor-General’s orders. It was
no use. Then I wrote a long letter of appeal, indicating the
route by which I hoped to proceed eastwards, and requesting
that the Governor-General would allow my correspondence
to be forwarded to me. It would be two months before
I could get any answer, so while I waited, I set up a pendulum
station, developed plates and films, and tried to improve my
Chinese.

Shu Darin had two secretaries, Dju Kodjang and Tsa
Kodjang, and a clerk, Huang Ssueh. His Head of Police
was called Tan daloje. All were singularly charming people,
but very fond of company. When Shu returned my visit, I
took the opportunity of showing him some photographs.
They evidently appealed to him, for a few days later he came
over and asked if I would take a photograph of him too. I
wanted nothing better. After that I was able to take as many
photographs as I liked, almost, and things became quite
pleasant.

Tsa and Huang were my special teachers and friends.

One day they were sitting at home with me drinking tea

when they caught sight of an old Swedish newspaper, in which

was an advertisement of corsets, with an alluring illustration.

This gave the conversation a definite turn. Tsa inquired

with polite interest how many wives and children I had.

I replied, blushing modestly, that I was a bachelor. To tlus

166

X56 KARAVAN

they remarked: “ Kuai te jin ’’—extraordinary man. After
a moment’s consideration Tsa found the solution to the
problem: “ Ah, I understand, your parents have of course
arranged . that there is a girl waiting for you when you get
home.” — I could almost picture it, but I had to deny it all
the same. — '''Kuai te jin ” — He continued the interview by
asking what I thought of the Turki girls I replied that as
I was afraid of them and they were of me, there was no ques-
tion of thinking anything at all. Here Tomes intervened and
explained at some length that his master did not have any-
thing to do with loose girls, and that according to foreign
conventions it was impolite and improper to go into details
on such matters — " Kuai tejin^ kuai te jin."

Christmas, 1932, I spent quietly and silently, with not
even a single letter. Tomes “ shot in ” the New Year, 1933,
according to the Mongolian custom. First a shot for himself,
then one for me, his master, and finally one for the other
servants. If the shots ring out clean, it foretells good luck.
All three, echoed sullenly between the walls, perhaps as a
warning that there would be much shooting in the coming
year.

Huang Ssueh was always busy preparing indian ink
when one came upon him at home on the days before the
holiday, and Tsa Kodjang often stood smoking his hookah
with a whimsically thoughtful expression while his friends
played mah-jongg.

On New Year’s Eve they both came over, and brought
with them a large roll of paper.

The house was adorned with their beautiful tui-tzu, long
red strips of paper, on which Tsa’s beautiful thoughts were
inscribed in black characters by Huang’s bold, strong brush.
The one over the door said, " May Spring bring Happiness
and Health to Mankind In my room were two large,
four-sided lamps. The sides, of transparent Khotan paper,
were adorned with red borders, and on the plain white portions

LESSONS IN CHINESE

157

were inscribed quotations from the Ancients in graceful
characters.

The highly educated Chinese can give very perfect ex-
pression to sublime thoughts with very few characters. On
each side of the lamps was a complete short essay.

“ A wise man withdrew into the mountains and lived as a
hermit in a small cave, far from the turmoil of the world.
He became more and more learned.

“ One day the prince heard tell of the pious recluse. He
sought for nine days before finding the hermit’s dwelling.
Seven days he stayed with him acquiring knowledge.

“ He was then able to help his people a thousand years on
in time.”

• •••••••••>

” Even the dry desert hills have their beauty. Sometimes
soft rains fall there. The water gathers in the valleys to form
streams so dazzlingly clear that you can see the little stones
shifting on the bottom. Then you remember the moon, which
silvers the fir-tree needles and the poplar leaves.

” The stones too have their charm.”

On New Year’s Eve a long and stately caravan came
winding from the west, but it brought no. mail. One of the
camels had had a foal. The soft little creature with its lustrous,
blue-grey coat rode on its father’s strong, brown back, while
the mother, still weak and freed from carrying loads, followed
behind watching attentively.

Tomes and I sat inside the serai, and wondered silently
what the New Year would bring.

The side of the lamp that was turned towards me had
only a few characters, but they had evidently been drawn with
very particular care.

“ Give people good thoughts, that it may go well with
them.”

CHAPTER XXVII

Revolution

T here was stlll no answer from the Governor-General
in Urumtsi. I had been ill for the last few days with
bronchial catarrh. Everything was still and peaceful, strangely
silent. On the 9th February, 1 933, a brother of my Chinese cook
Yuan came to Charchan, and 1 could hear endless talk going
on in the kitchen. Later that evening Tomes came in and told
me that revolution had broken out in- the land. Yuan’s brother
had fled from Charkhlik, where the disturbances had already
started. The Tungans had raised the standard of revolt, and
the Turkis had made common cause with them.

I realized all of a sudden why I had never received any
letters, any answer to my communications, any money. By
degrees the rumours took more definite shape. The new strong
man was Ma-tsung-in, and his troops were expected in Char-
chan on the 19th February.

I had been waiting for some time for an opportunity to
make a triangulation that would enable me to include the high
hills to the south on my map. On the 19th, the Chiefs birth-
day, the weather cleared up. The whole town was in a state
of confusion, and no one had time to notice me: everyone had
his own troubles. I got out my theodolite in less than no
time, rode with a few servants straight to the eastern base-
point that I had chosen and marked out long before, and
measured a succession of lofty peaks. We packed up and
hurried off to the western base, but by the time we arrived,
the view had already gone. 'It was tragic. This was the first
time for three months that we had had a clear view; were

ISS

Afa Fu Guan and his fifteen-year-old son

REVOLUTION

*59

we likely to get one again within a reasonable time ? Hardly,
it seemed, and I went home tired and depressed.

To add to our troubles, the donkeys, which we had
tethered to a tamarisk-bound sand-cone, had broken loose and
run home, so that we had to wade through the ice-cold river.
Between the river and the town ran a strip of pasture-land
thinly covered with reeds and camel-thorn, with a few tamarisk
cones, ^and trailing clematis twining round the toghrak trunks.
At this time of year it was all cold and dry; but we saw lanterns
shining in many places.

Whenever there is disorder in the land, the people always
go and bury their most precious possessions. Many of the
wealthier townspeople were busy in this way that night out
in the dry dj&ngal^ as that strip of land is called — the word
is closely related to “ jungle ”. This custom has prevailed in
Chinese Turkestan from time immemorial, and is one of the
reasons — ^there are other more important ones — ^why archaeo-
logists frequently find such beautiful ornaments in their exca-
vations. The owner of the buried treasure, of course, often
enough finds himself before long short of his head— even
though executions do not generally begin with such a vital
part of the body.

In the ruined towns of Taklamakan one often comes upon
most remarkable and interesting relics of earlier cultural epochs,
for widely famous caravan routes used to run through Chinese
Turkestan and serve as trade links between the East and the
West. Sometimes a river will cut through a former town,
and then even the layman can recognize objects from the most
varied parts of the world in the exposed strata. An agate
seal adorned with two Greek cupids, another of a glassy sub-
stance with the head of a late Roman legionary, a third of
bronze with a formalized Chinese monster — ^all witnessing to
the brisk commerce that the land enjoyed in former days.

We had a clear day again on the 22nd, and I completed

i6o

KARAVAN

my triangulation. It was an extraordinary piece of luck that
the clear weather came just during the days of the revolution,
for previously the Chinese would not have allowed the work;
what would happen later, no one knew. We will turn back
to my diary:

“23-2—1933. Two Chinese who keep a pawnbroker’s
shop have gone over to Mohammedanism and greet their
acquaintances with ‘ Aleikum salaam ’. Every Chinese with a
glimmer of self-respect has always felt an indescribable scorn
for chan too^ and shown it quite openly. All this has changed
in the last few days. The Turkis have begun to be regarded
with a certain respect.

“ 24—2. Two Turkis arrived from Charkhlik and put up
at Jussup beg’s caravanserai. They were simply dressed, but
carried weapons underneath their clothes and were treated
with obvious respect. People stay in their homes — ^there is
hardly anyone about in the streets. Is it the calm before the
storm ?

“ 25—2. The two Turkis sent a message to the burgo-
master to come to their serai. Shu Darin obeyed the order,
which meant that he had given up the game.

“ Two days’ march outside the town, said the Turkis, were
500 soldiers, and the question was whether Shu Darin chose
to fight them, or surrender of his own free will ? He surren-
dered. He had 35 soldiers at his disposal, but what were they
like ? There was not one that he could tryst. Without a shadow
of doubt they would all have gone over to the enemy at the
first opportunity. It stood to reason — ^they were Turkis to a
man. * Then hand over all your arms and ammunition.’
The audience was over. That afternoon box after box was
carried over to the new masters. Hundreds of Chinese were
converted to Mohammedanism. The burgomaster was
baptized under the name of Jakup BedOwlet, the Happy One,

^ Chinese for ** turbened head The refezence is to the white tuiban, Mi/d, which the
Turkis wear--the literate always^ the others only on special occasions.

REVOLUTION

x6i

and his little daughter Altun Chan, Golden Girl — both of
them very handsome names.

“ a6— 2. Large crowds gathered at the mosque to enjoy
the spectacle of their former ruler putting on the Jtf/Zd, or white
turban, and the meize^ the Turkish boot with a detachable,
high-heeled galosh, and for the first time, in view of everyone,
performing his namaz and bowing his forehead in the dust.”

Several days passed in this way. Rumours ran through the
town like lightning; it was indeed a kind of thunderstorm
that was passing over the country. There was no possibility
of getting accurate information. I sent messengers to Khotan
and Yarkand, but had little hope that they would return again.
On the 5th March the troops arrived, which on the 25th Febru-
ary had lain ” two days’ march ” away. The good Shu must
have felt bitter when he saw that “ army ”. It consisted of one
captain and six soldiers ! One of these was the fifteen-year-old
son of the captain.

Ma Fu Guan, the officer, a short, thick-set, abrupt type,
certainly a good soldier, probably also a good officer, arrived
in the morning and came over to see me the same afternoon.
The whole population of the town believed that “ sahib’s ”
last hour had come. Ma would obviously make short work
of the unbelieving dog, and the whole male and a large part
of the female population of the district gathered at the caravan-
serai where I lived, to witness the execution. My servants sat
in the kitchen with faces like chalk. Only Tomes kept a cool
head and accompanied me out to meet my mighty guest.

It was a very exciting moment; but Ma turned out to be
quite pleasant, and by no means so dangerous as people
thought. He spoke in Russian, so the conversation was
conducted in that language, ^hich only Tomes and the two
of us understood. He began by asking to see my passport,
which I showed him, and then I pointed out Sweden to him
on the map, and told him it was one of the finest countries in
the world. Has sahib any firearms.? — Three. — May I see?

X69

KARAVAK

—-■Certainly. We produced our whole arsenal: a carbine from
1887, a double-barrelled "Army and Navy", and a big
Browning.

Yes, I shall have to take these. — Certainly, pro\dded you
are willing to pay for them. — Of course, and we will only
take two, so as not to leave you altogether without. — ^And then
we drank a cup of tea and talked about the weather, which
was a non-committal subject, and parted.

I returned his visit in the evening, and we discussed the
price. The figures I asked were pretty high. I was absolutely
broke, though nobody knew that. He sat up; this was very
expensive. I explained that they were first-class weapons,
particularly well-adjusted, and that this was a unique oppor-
tunity.

Not only did I put a heavy price on the arms, but on the
ammunition too. There were fifty cartridges for the carbine,
and 120 for the revolver. The double-barrelled gun I intended
to keep, it was the best. After some discussion we agreed that
he should pay the sums I asked for the arms, but that the
ammunition should be thrown in. He was delighted. I
myself almost wept with despair, but secretly I was over-
joyed. Now I had money and could set off at any moment,
provided the new authorities allowed.

The whole countryside was in flames. The revolution had
broken out in several places almost simultaneously. Rumour
told of the most frightful atrocities, and the descriptions of
the fighting from the Turfan district were bloody and cruel
to the last degree. In Charchan everything was quiet and
orderly, but the smiths were at work day and night making
swords and lances.

On the 1 3 th March Ma lost control of the people, and looting
began, though mercifully it was not general but confined to
a few hated Chinese, and one the most powerful of the
Turkis. The excuse given was that he was thought to be
" on the side of the Chinese ", but actually it was sheer

REVOLUTION

163

rapacity. The rioters got little for their trouble, for hfiaz
Beg, being a sensible man, had put all his loose property in
safety. They paid no attention to me, for which I was very
thankful. This was the first time I had ever seen a revolutionary
mob, wild with lust, without a trace of responsibility, fanatical,
excited, and terrifying, and it was not a pretty sight. Everyone
was armed. Those who had no proper weapons had at least a
stick or a kaltaky a wooden club.

** 23—3. A few more important gentlemen arrived from
Charkhlik, also Tungans. Rumour is still active. One day
there is a new Governor-General in Urumtsi, the next the
town is invested by 7000 soldiers. On the third, it has been
captured by a Turki from Hami. On the fourth, a Tungjan
is on his way there with 70,000 men 1 The other day when I
ventured out to make a triangulation, I saw in my theodolite
that one of my triangulation marks had fallen over, and as 1
could not remember the word for * fall ', I said to Tavekkul,
‘ The obo over there has died.’ A rumour immediately spread
round the town that sahib had seen in his Thousand Eyes that
hundreds of people had died in Urumtsi.”

Tsa Mo Djang, the last-arrived war-lord, gave me per-
mission to set out on my journey westwards. Intense interest
immediately began to be shown in all my possessions.

Captain Ma came to pay me a visit. “ Can I have that
pair of field-glasses? You don’t need that knife! What an
excellent pair of boots, they would just fit me. And what a
lot of watches you have 1 ” It was enough to make one explode,
but one had to be polite. To crown all, he complained that
my firearms were bad. I was very surprised, and asked what
was the matter with them. Oh, the cartridges didn’t fit. He
had been putting them into the magazine wrong.

My three servants fell ill with a fever. There was a severe
storm lasting several days. It was rather a strain to cook, do
the housework, and nurse three patients, and at the same time

pack up for departure. On the ist April I eventually got my
(raos) u

I«4

KARAVAN

passport, and the whole Chinese colony came to take leave of
me. They felt that my sympathies were on their side. Every
one of them brought me a little present, an attention which I
greatly appreciated. On the 2nd April I engaged a donkey-driver
and paid him im advance, on the 3rd he ran away. However,
my own boys were well again by now, and we soon got hold of
another, whom we almost tethered up at the caravanseru.
On the 4th we set off. The only way which the authorities left
open to me was the main road west towards Khotan.

CHAPTER XXVIII

Along the Southern Edge of Taklamakan

T he cuckoo flies high over the fields, crying in Chinese:

"Plough and sowl Plough and sow!” And every-
where the people can be seen obeying. Thin but sinewy
oxen go drawing a simple wooden plough with a ploughshare
of shining steel, while a little girl follows in the furrow sowing
the grains of wheat one by one. Spring is coming.

The march to Niya was monotonous, and we came in for
the usual sandstorms and hated them. Sometimes we had good
water, sometimes it was salt. Generally the pasturage was
miserable but fuel fair. We met a few camel caravans, but
there was not much traflic.

The men used to sit round the camp fire in the evenings
warming themselves and telling stories, which the cheerful
youth Tavekkul enjoyed as much as anyone. His eyes always
shone with pleasure, and he is responsible for the following
little saga about the camel and the horns.

In olden days the camel had the finest horns of any
animal: heavy, manly ornaments. But the wild sheep had
none at all, to his great sorrow. One day a wild ram came to
the camel and told him that he was to be married the next
day, and was sad because he had no horns, and asked with
elaborate turns of phrase and many flattering speeches whether
he might borrow the camel’s majestic, twirling adornments.
The good-natured, kind-hearted camel looked at the ram,
and felt sorry for him having to cut such a poor figure on his
wedding-day. So he knelt down and allowed the ram to lift
off his crown and set it on his own head. " I will send it back

165

166

KARAVAN

to-morrow by one of the wedding-suite,” the ram cried as
he raced back to his mountain slopes. But in the excitement
of the wedding festivities he completely forgot his promise,
and when he told his wife next day that he must send back
his fine horns to the camel, she thought it quite unnecessary,
for they looked so much better on her husband. As so often
happens, the wicked female element triumphed over the good
masculine one; but in consequence the sheep has always had
to stay up in the high and inaccessible mountains and has
never been able to visit the rich plains.

The camel waited down among the reeds by the river,
and cast long, searching looks after every traveller who passed,
but always in vain. No one brought him his horns.

To this day the camel still turns his head round every
time he meets a traveller, and lets his eyes linger on him,
seeking his lost, proud treasure, before withdrawing his gaze
with slow melancholy, and with long, deep nods relapsing into
contemplation of the cruel falseness of the world.

• •••••••••

We got safely across the Endere-tarim, the river that has no
eddies, picking up on the way a strange creature who never
said a word and thus had the makitigs of an excellent servant.
His name was Heli achon and he attached himself firmly to
Tavekkul, the two of them accompanying me, like Tomes, as
far as Kashmir.

We reached Niya on the 13 th April. The bazaar was thronged
with brightly dressed soldiers. Formerly, the distinguishing
mark of the Turki had always been the white turban, but the
spirit of the new time required livelier colours. The younger
numly element of the town was like so many strutting pea-
cocks, fir outshining the modestly turned-out soldiers of the
period of the Chinese regime. A troop of 100 men arrived
from Keriya at the same time as we, under the command of
Niaz achon with the pretentious title “ Emir ”.

He sent at once for Tomes and me, and we were escorted

TO KERIYA AND KHOTAN. 1S7

by twelve soldiers with shining swords and long, broad lances,
and a drummer-boy, the detachment being commanded by a
strong, active and very pleasant man, Hashim Hadji Hakim.
We were taken direct into a large, airy room covered with
rugs in screaming colours. The effeminate little emir sat on a
dais in one corner, dressed in a bright red “ uniform *’ of
flowery silk, twanging tunefully at a guitar, humming and
enjoying himself, and did not honour us with a glance. He
was obviously of the type that liked his opium pipe and some
pretty girls from the street to amuse himself with. Finding
that no great attention was paid to us. Tomes and I began to
exchange remarks about his appearance; he did not under-
stand Russian. Suddenly he woke up to the situation and
asked us how we were. “ Very well, thank you.” — “ Where
are you going, gentlemen — ** To Keriya.” — “ Good. Are
there any pretty girls on the way to Charchan ?” — “ No.” —
“ Good-bye.”—” Good-bye.”

At that we returned to our serai, where we found a
lively altercation in progress in the raciest Turki between
Tavekkul and a soldier who had tried to steal his chilem^ or
hookah. Early next morning we were on the road again.

We reached Keriya on the 17th, and were met by the
British Ak-sakal, the attentive Gholam Muhammet Khan,
who regretted that the authorities had forbidden him to place
his house at my disposal, so that I had to put up at an ordinary
serai with its characteristic atmosphere of squalor and misery.
A troop of soldiers marched into the courtyard, and one of
them came and tried to take my gun, the double-barrelled
rifle. I told him that that was a matter between his general
and myself, but he snatched it from me. Even a Swede can
get in a fury sometimes, and the next moment I had it back,
but not for long, he was too strong for me. Boiling with rage,
I took my Swedish passport, marched straight up to the yamen,
and demanded an immediate interview with Kamal Da Mollah,
the ruling Pasha. (No false modesty here about titles.) The

|68

KARAVAN

pasha received me, for Gholam Muhammet had heard of the
trouble and come riding in my tracks. I said excitedly: “lam
a Swede, here is my passport. Kindly look at it. I come from
Charchan. The journey here was peaceful and pleasant. When
I got here, a lout of a soldier stole my rifle. There he is. I
appeal to Your Excellency to put the matter right.” His
Excellency apologized, and we parted on good terms.

I had intended to make a gravity determination in Keriya,
and next day I began to set up my instruments in all secrecy
in my “ bedroom ”. In addition the meteorological apparatus
had to be set up in the courtyard outside. While I was busy
with that, two soldiers came and ordered me to remove it
immediately. “ Why “ Orders.”—” All right, then we will
go up to the pasha again and see what he says.”

He was sitting in the Council of the Elders, surrounded
by a group of venerable grey-beards, and I thought the matter
would soon be settled. But by no means. I delivered a long
lecture on popular meteorology, laying special stress on its
service to agriculture, the importance of being able to predict
storms, and the necessity of obtaining protection against
devastating floods. I felt I was being quite eloquent, and
concluded with a description of the magnificent meteoro-
logical stations in Istanbul, painted in the brightest colours
of the imagination. Wasted effort. The elders withdrew for
a short consultation, and the pasha himself formulated their
decision in the following terms: “ When it is cold, we wear a
thick fur coat. When it is warm, we go in our shirt-sleeves;
but we, the men of the new Islam, have no need of * meteor-
ology M” So I had to go back and take down my meteorological
station.

The serai backed on to a large plot of waste ground with
high walls. I made a hole in the wall, and continued my
meteorological observations in there, without reference to the
views of the new Islam.

What would they have said if they had known that I had

TO KERIYA AND KHOTAN 169

a wireless set in my room, in addition to all the other wonder-
ful things ?

Gholam Muhammet described the course the revolution
had taken in Keriya.

First the Chinese were instructed to surrender all their
arms, money, gold and silver, seals, &c. — They did.

Next day all the unfaithful were converted to Moham-
medanism, and received a pledge that thereafter they should
go in peace.

There followed great festivities at the State expense. The
new Islam was proclaimed.

On the fourth day of the revolution thirty-five Chinese
and two Hindus were murdered. The methods were mediaeval
in their cruelty. Their ears were cut off, their tongues torn
out, their eyes pierced in, their teeth knocked out, their hands
and feet crushed — ^and little by little the delinquent died.
The corpse was thrown to the dogs.

Chinese women were taken from their husbands and given
in marriage to Turkis. Little girls ten years old were given
to men of over fifty.

This was in 1933. The new Islam.

• •••••••••

We chose a lucky moment to leave Charchan. If we had
reached Keriya one week earlier, both Tomes and I would
certainly have lost our lives. If we had stayed one week longer
in Charchan, we should have experienced the same thing
there that happened in Keriya. Just when the frenzy was at
its height, we were safely out in the desert. Sand and storm
are perhaps not ideal companions, but there are worse.

The 20th April was bazaar day. Very few people were
about. I went out to get provisions. On the way I met a
small troop going the round of the bazaar — a frightful sight
that made me turn sick. At the head went a soldier with a
long lance, to the point of which was tied a human hand.
Behind him came the criminal, a thief, his back bare, his right

170

KARAVAN

arm held high, bleeding and bandaged. Men with leather
whips followed behind him. The poor wretch had to keep
crying out: “ I have stolen, I am a thief, I stole two bowls.

It was a great sin. 1 am a thief, I stole two bowls. It was a great

Sin*

Loose shots were fired daily during the parades into the
ruined houses of the Chinese. There was incessant fighting
in the courtyards. Husbands beat their wives, mothers their
sons, brothers their little sisters, and every now and then the
shirrcken — or overseer — ^would come and give the whole
company a taste of his flat leather whip.

By the 28 th I had got a good way east of Kenya to the
little town of Chira, which is now quite a thriving community.
There I had a real adventure. A few minutes after our arrival
at the serai, two soldiers came and announced that the pasha
wanted to see me. I said that I had to wash and change my
clothes and brush my teeth, but that after that I would come,
and that I should have done so even if the gentlemen had not
come to fetch me, for I knew what etiquette demanded.

Five minutes passed. Then twelve soldiers marched into
the courtyard of the serai, and their commander informed me
sharply that this was not a question of a formal visit or an
invitation, but was an order. “ Come with us immediately!”
This was a new and interesting tone which I had never met
with before. When I was ready, I went out to the troop and
Tomes came with me.

A well-armed company of soldiers was waiting outside
the serai and followed after us. The news had spread like
lightning, and the streets were packed with people eager to
see the impudent kapir (=kaflr), the unbelieving dog, who had
had the impudence not to obey instantaneously the summons
of the pasha, Emir Abdu Kadir Da achon.

We were led into the yamen, not through the main gate-
way, but by a narrow side entrance. This looks promising.
Tomes 1” — “ Swine,” he answered, for safety’s sake in Russian.

TO KERIYA AND KHOTAN 171

We halted in the inmost courtyard, and the soldiers placed
themselves in two rows. Between them stood Tomes and I.

The Mighty One came out from the yamen and sat down
on a stool, surrounded by a brightly dressed group. The
peacock is poorly attired in comparison with these gorgeous
self-made rulers. His tunic was of green velvet with gold
lacings, his trousers of vermilion, his turban black, and the
coat was adorned with mother-of-pearl buttons like an Italian
accordion. A white feather hung over his brow. His face was
cruel and, like his hands, was filthy dirty. The costume was
that of a prince, the man himself a coal-heaver.

I bowed politely and said, ''A salaam aleikum" the usual
Turki greeting, to which one is bound to answer, “ Aleikum
a salaam^' both according to common usage and the dictates
of the Koran. So that I was extremely surprised when
instead he wrinkled up his nose and said to the interpreter
at his side: “Let him take a few steps back, he is too
close to me.” Evidently I was not sufficiently sweet-scented
for him.

Then began a priceless cross-examination. He did not
know that I understood their language, but used an interpreter
who translated into Chinese, which I also understood. The
Chinese was translated again by Tomes into Russian, generally
with pithy commentaries.

“ Ati nema.? — ^Ta di minze? — ^Vashe imia? — ^What is his
name?” One had plenty of time to think before answering
the question. “ Where does he come from ? — ^What is he
doing? — ^Where was he last.? — ^Where is he going?” Always
the same ke, he. I grew more and more furious. At last he
said: “ He can go.”

All this time the soldiers had been standing loading their
rifles, old muzzle-loaders with matchlocks dating from the
sixteenth century. They put in gunpowder first and a wad
of paper after, but no bullet, so the idea was simply to make
me jump out of my skin with fright when they fired. The

172 KARAVAN

pasha’s eyes looked wrathful as I nodded approvingly at their
toys.

He can go.” Oh yes, I thought, he can certainly do that,
but he can say a word or two before he goes. When I really
see red, I become quite eloquent — ^in Turki-— and I began a
short oration in the pasha’s own tongue.

“ I have been travelling about this country for six years.
Wherever I have come, I have always been treated with
courtesy and politeness. Whenever I have met a Moham-
medan, he has always answered my ‘ A salaam aleikum ’ with his
‘ Aleikum a salaam ’. This is the first time I have known a
Mohammedan say instead: ‘ Let him take a few steps back,
he stinks so horribly.’ ”

The pasha turned pale, and a low approving murmur
arose from the priests and people. The worthy pasha had
made a great mistake when he forgot to answer my greeting.
He lost face by it, whereas mine was as large and broad as
his was thin and narrow. I felt at once how the land lay, and
realized I must strike now while the iron was hot, so I con-
tinued in great form:

” Always before when I have been to see a burgomaster or
provincial governor, or even the governor-general, they have
opened the main gates and welcomed me honourably. And
when 1 met these people, they always offered me a chair, and
not until 1 had sat down did my host ever sit. Here it is not
only the other way about, but my host actually sits himself
while he lets me stand. Then the first question was always:
‘ Have you had a good and successful journey, have your
animals stood it well? Are you in need of provisions, or is
there any other way in which I can be of service?’ ”

The old men shook their heads. 1 went on. I knew what
respect the men of the new Government had for the Royal
houses of Europe, in particular of England, and I lied heartily
about my many meetings with the great ones of the world.
“When I went to say good-bye to His Majesty the King

A little girl follows in the furrow sowing the grains of wheat one hy one

Muhammet Emin Emir {in the black chapari), pasha of Khotan

TO KERIYA AND KHOTAN

173

at home in Sweden, I was treated kindly and courteously. And
when I went to call on Kaiser Wilhelm, it was just the same,
and in London I may tell you that King George offered me a
cup of tea with twelve lumps of sugar in it I But, of course,
it is interesting to see the different customs that prevail in
different places. And now allow me to express my thanks for
the extremely charming reception that your glorious and
illustrious Excellency has seen fit to accord me.”

With my hand on my heart and salaam on my lips I made
my deepest bow, turned on my heel, and marched off, after
first instructing Tomes for safety’s sake to translate my dis-
course into his more musical and well-turned Turki. Tomes
had seen the splendour of the Chinese court — I had never
seen any court at all — and he not merely translated my tale,
but added some rich oriental colour effects.

Half an hour later I was sitting at the caravanserai writing
up my diary, when two officers arrived from the yamen. They
were extremely polite, and asked me not to take what had
happened at the yamen too seriously. The pasha was new in
these parts, and did not know how to behave towards people
of quality. ” Don’t mention it,” I said, ” it didn’t matter at
all. It is always interesting to observe how people behave in
different parts of the world, and how customs vary. The
Prince of Wales is particularly interested in exotic countries
like this, and when we parted, he asked me to write him a
few lines some time and tell him about my experiences, so
I am just busy now writing a little account to The Times^
which I hope will interest and amuse him.”

I had a special reason for talking so much about the
English Royal family and The Times, which they knew very
well was the world’s newspaper. The men of the new religion
were particularly anxious to obtain friendly relations with
England, and it appeared later that my bluff on this occasion
had been extraordinarily successful. The two gentlemen left
the serai in black despair.

CHAPTER XXIX

Your Excellency 1 1 — a Tragically
Short Chapter

T hree days later, on the ist May, 1933 , Herr Ambolt,
wearing a white Swedish student’s cap, made his entry
into the town of Khotan. My fame had preceded me. As usual,
I put up at the house of the old Badrudin Khan, and my recep-
tion was rather different from that in Chira. Immediately on
our arrival, two ministers appeared from the new Central
Government, which had its seat there. They asked to speak
to Tomes, not to me, and Tomes went out. They wondered
when sahib would be able to receive them, and asked Tomes
how long it would take me to wash, change my clothes, and
brush my teeth. Tomes grasped the situation at once and said
graciously that it might take about half an hour, but after that
he would see whether an audience could be arranged.

Tomes came in again smiling to himself. In half an hour’s
time the two gentlemen were back again. “ Please sit down.” —
“ Sahib first 1” — “ Always after my guests.” Whereupon they
sat down delighted, and we drank tea. ” Has sahib had a good
and successful journey?” — “Thank you, quite excellent.”
— “Sahib’s animals are all strong and healthy?” — “Per-
fectly.”—** Does sahib require any maize or clover for his
animals?” — *‘Yes, indeed I do, your kindness touches me
deeply.” — ** Pasha, our gracious king, whom Allah — praised
and glorified be his holy name — ^has recently installed in his
high office, sends greetings to sahib and instructs us to say
that he is sending two sheep, a sack of rice, tea and sugar and

174

YOUR EXCELLENCYII 175

some ducks as a dmall gift of welcome, which he hopes that
sahib will graciously accept.” I inquired when it would suit
their glorious master to receive my humble and childish in-
significance, and we agreed upon the following day, parting
under mutual assurances of our own lowliness and each other’s
greatness.

On the next day, the and May, I paid my visit to the supreme
authority, Muhammet Emin Emir, who held all the real power,
even though a Malik (king) and a Da Mollah (high priest)
were above him in rank. The emir, or general, was, of course,
the one who counted for most in war-time. That visit was a
memorable one. After the usual politenesses, in the course
of which I discovered that I had risen to the rank, honour and
dignity of Excellency, we began to talk about my work, and I
received the following gratifying information.

“ During the regime which preceded ours. Your Ex-
cellency has often had great and undeserved difficulties to
contend with. The authorities have done their best through
these last years to make your work, and that of your country-
man, the brilliant geologist. Dr. Norin, and of other out-
standing scientists, such as, for example. Dr. Stein, difficult
or sometimes even impossible. We, who represent Hukumet
Islamia Djemhuriet, the new Islam, are anxious to support
your scientific work in every way. You have a free hand, do
whatever you wish.” — ” Shu gepp n&hijeti tatlik,'' I replied,
“ That is sweet talk,” and I began to expound my plans for
the future. After a time the chief instructor to the troops came
in and delivered a message to his master, who thereupon said :
” We have taken the liberty of arranging a military parade
in honour of Your Excellency.”

Half an hour later I, the student from Lund, was standing
on Khotan drill-ground saluting the troops as they marched
past. Frantically recalling our own rigorous drills at Revinge-
hed and Axvall, I assumed a dignified military bearing and
stood stiffly to attention.

176

KARAVAN

Last of all came the 61ite troops, the highly trained light
infantry, with aquiline noses and piercing eyes, preceded by
the regimental band. With deep solemnity, to the strains of
** Yes, we have no bananas ”, I made my very smartest salute.

CHAPTER XXX

Feminine Intuition and Turki Religion

G HOLAM MUHAMMET khan, the British Ak-
sakal in Kenya, came also to Khotan, and we were
neighbours. He was helpful and charming, like his brother in
ofEce, the old Badrudin Khan, and I owe the following amusing
story to him.

The British consuls in Kashgar often have to make long
journeys through Chinese Turkestan in connexion with their
official duties. One of them in particular, Mr. Skrine, is known
throughout the length and breadth of western Taklamakan.
His wife is equally well known, and it was of her that the
Ak-sakal told me the following anecdote while we ate a juicy
melon in the garden.

On one occasion the consul had to visit Keriya, and Mrs.
Skrine went with him. They were met in Chira by Gholam,
who had a house there; Mrs. Skrine was introduced to his
wife, and the two ladies made great friends, exchanging pre-
sents, playing with the children, and generally enjoying
themselves. The very next day the Skrines rode on to Keriya.
When they arrived there — ^the Ak-sakal had another house
there, in which the consul and his wife were to stay — ^they
saw a group of children playing in the courtyard. “ How
clever of you to get the children here so quickly, for we have
ridden quite fast ourselves,” said Mrs. Skrine. ” Ah,” laughed
the Ak-sakal, ” these are different children, I have another
wife in this town.” — ** Why, yes, of course,” Mrs. Skrine said,
“ but then I must meet this little wife too.” — ** By all means,”

the Ak-sakal replied; ” we are going to have a big tea-party

178

KARAVAN

for all the ladies hereabouts, and memsahib shall meet her
then.” The party took place that afternoon. The ladies all
assembled first, and then the consul’s wife was ushered into
the room. It must have been a splendid and colourful sight
that met her eyes, and in the forefront stood the little wife.
Mrs. Skrine went up to her and opened the conversation,
after exchanging the little peck on the cheek that is the correct
greeting between ladies of fashion, by saying: ” I am so
pleased to meet you. I met the Ak-sakal’s wife in Chira
yesterday, and I have spoken to your charming children
already.” The Ak-sakal’s little wife was completely bowled
over. She had been so proud and happy to think that her
husband did not bother to have more than one wife.

This was not any lack of tact on Mrs. Skrine’s part —
most well-to-do men have at least two wives, and the rivals are
generally acquainted with each other, even though they mostly
live under different roofs. But this crafty Ak-sakal had suc-
ceeded in keeping his secret. Mrs. Skrine saw, of course,
how upset the little lady was, and her feminine intuition
quickly told her why. She was not the wife of a diplomat for
nothing. She knew how to get out of the most delicate situation
with flying colours. Mrs. Skrine leaned over the little wife
and whispered: ” She was sixty years old.” That altered
matters, the little vife in Keriya was twenty-five. She
brightened up, and became merry and gay again. Sixty years
old I She was obviously some old hag whom the Ak-sakal
had married simply to get her money, and ultimately that
would benefit her too. The party was a great success. The
little wife never found out that “ she ” was actually not sixty
but only eighteen.

Thanks to the kindness of the authorities, I had one more
opportunity of visiting the mountains of Karanghu-tagh. I
travelled with a light caravan due south over Ulugh-dawan —
the mighty pass— to the town of Karanghu-tagh itself. The

FEMININE INTUITION

179

hillmen, however, were as obstinate as they had always been
before, and my efforts to get up into the mountains failed.
'Diere were no yaks, sheep, horses or donkeys to be hired.
Above all they showed no desire to help, and I had to go
back with my mission unfulfilled, even though I knew very well
that the valleys were full of thousands of animals at pasture.

I went back by the route I had taken before, through the
ruined town south of Hasha. There I was more successful.
I talked to the old men and told them that I must get hold of
some old object from the town up on the terrace. Whether
there were any or not, Chuda biledo — Our Lord knows. Those
words helped me immensely. On arriving there I had asked
first for water to wash in and then for drinking water, and
now I could hear the old men discussing me. “ Sahib must
be some kind of Mohammedan. He washed himself before
he drank, and you heard yourselves how he said ‘ Chuda
biledo ’. He obviously believes in Allah and the Prophets,
and we must help him.” Until they discovered that I was a
kind of Mohammedan, there was absolutely nothing for me,
but as soon as I was ** converted ”, I had any number of
pitchers to choose from, and took several of them home with
me.

The valley below Hasha was full of the glorious scent of
flowering Jigddn and Chigirt mak, a pale-blue iris with yellow
veins. It is npt often one meets with a pleasant scent in Sin-
kiang. Japan has been called “ the land where the flowers
have no scent and the women no hearts ”. The same would
apply very well in general to Sinkiang, but there would be
no harm in adding, “ where the children have no clothes and
the men no face, but two tongues instead

On the way back to Khotan the Yurung-kash-darya was
so swollen that it could not be comfortably crossed on horse-
back, and we had to go over on rafts of inflated goats’ skins,
called tohm. The animals were swum across by a naked youth.

Tomes had stayed on at headquarters attending to the

(r«0S) <3

z8o

KARAVAN

meteorological work while I was in the mountains. I got back
to find him in a storming temper. On my instructions he had
roasted a duck for our old friend Moldovack, and Heli achon,
the silent youth whom he had picked up on the road, had
taken it over and had just come back and proudly showed him
a coin which he had been given for his trouble. This infuriated
Tomes beyond measure. “ The miserable wretch has been
and sold the duckl” he said, black in the face with rage.

CHAPTER XXXI

Homeward Bound

O N the 1 2th June, 1933, I was ready to set out again.

The authorities had given me my visa, and, which was
equally important, had lent me money. This time I hired
a caravan of fifty donkeys for the transport. I myself had
seven native servants, with Tomes and Tavekkul at the head.
Both of them had learnt to help with the scientific work in
a marvellous way, and took every possible care of my personal
comfort. I gave a big dinner before I left at Badrudin Khan’s
serai, for seventy persons, price twelve shillings, and no one
went away hungry.

I took old Khan Sahib a farewell present when I went to
say good-bye to him, and the fine old fellow thanked me so
warmly that my eyes filled with tears. “ May sahib get safely
back to the land of his fathers, and find his father and mother
well.”

Hardest of all was the parting from the eighty-three year
old Karekin Moldovack, who suffered badly under the new
regime. It is often difficult to find words to express one’s
feelings when they are deepest. We parted in silence.

I left yet another faithful friend behind in Khotan. “ Chil ”
ended his days there; some scoundrel had poisoned him.
*•••••••••

Khotan bore clear evidence of the battles that had recently
raged thore. In a wide belt running through the town all the
houses were in ruins. They had sprayed paraffin from the
town wall over the house roofs during the fighting and set

KARAVAN

182

light to it, and Moldovack, who was unable to move himself,
had been rescued by a faithful servant.

One of the soldiers pointed out to me, not without
pride, some big dents in the metal plating of the town gate.
“ That’s the marks of our guns, that is.” Undoubtedly the
reason why not more of the attacking Turkis were killed
during the investment was the old habit the Chinese have
of firing up into the air to frighten the enemy. A humane
and even endearing method of warfare, but possibly not very
effective.

There were traces of the fighting outside the town too.
The battle had raged fiercely between Zawa and Kum>rabat,
and several corpses lay along the roadside still unburied.
Low grave-mounds stood everywhere. In the little village of
Pialma an officer related with pride how they had killed the
garrison at Yarkand.

After enduring a siege of several months, the Chinese had
capitulated on the condition that all arms, ammunition and
money should be handed over. In return they were to be
allowed to march out in safety. The Turkis agreed to this,
but nevertheless sent a well-armed troop in advance in the
direction in which the Chinese were to go. They also sent a
troop after them. One day’s march from the town, the fugitives
were trapped between these two forces and slaughtered to the
last man. Men, women, and children. The Turki related with
particular gusto what they had done with the children, the
** spawn ”. “ We threw them all in a heap, and poured paraffin
over them and lighted it. We didn’t want any seeds left to
sprout of that race.”

We followed the route over the steep Sanju-dawan to
the valley of Kasa-kash, and then proceeded through Keng-
shewar up towards Haji-langar, again crossing several ” white
patches ” on the map.

I tried to complete the theodolite work which I had

HOMEWARD BOUND 183

previously begun. On the 21st July we were at the top of
an unusually high peak, about 19,500 feet. The servants,
wrapped in their coats, were lying on the ground asleep. I
drew in the peaks one after the other and noted down the
readings from the theodolite scale. My view was obscured
by mist for a moment, and just then I noticed that my hands
were prickling. When I stretched out my fingers, tiny sparks
shot out from the tip of each finger. We were in the midst
of a thundercloud. There was a strong smell of ozone every-
where.

That evening we had a feast in the camp. Kerim achon,
a Kirghiz hunter whom I had engaged, had shot a magnificent
yak. Tomes was chef de cuisine. He took some flour, piled it
up with both hands in a metal bowl, and made a dough with
salt and water. While Tavekkul looked after the fire and
bellowsed the red coals. Tomes went on kneading his great
lump of paste. The kidney fat was melted in a pan, and a
huge piece of meat cut up into small cubes. When the fat
was boiling so that the pan was covered in blue smoke, these
cubes were thrown in and fried. The bones and tongue were
cooking in another pan. A few ladlefuls of gravy from this
were added to the meat pan, which was then half filled with
water. The dough was rolled out thin with a roller about an
inch thick, and cut into long, narrow strips. All the rest of
us sat round the pan solemnly waiting, until finally everyone
was given a strip of dough, and we set to. The strip is laid
over the left forearm and held between the thumb and first
finger, while with the right thumb and first finger small
pieces are broken off and thrown into the pot. Strip after
strip vanishes as quick as thought. Five minutes later the dish
is ready, and is consumed in eloquent silence.

This was our stock dish, whenever we had meat and fat.
When we had not, we could manage all right with the dough
alone, boiled in water; only then the silence was eloquent in a
difiFerent way. On really festive occasions. Tomes would pour

KARAVAN

IS4

in a little brown vin^ar, made from bread, which made the
dish extremely tasty.

Tongue was my special joy, particularly yak tongue. When
cooked, it was skinned, and kept as cold stores. In the parts
of the country where the yak lives wild there grows a small
artemisia called which is strongly aromatic. The yak

tears the leaves off the bushy stem of this plant with his bristly
tongue, and some of the scent penetrates into the flesh of the
tongue and gives it a peculiarly delicate flavour.

A few days* march farther south we had an unpleasant
adventure. We had just negotiated a pass and come down
into an undulating plain. The caravan was working on ahead,
and I was triangulating. When I had finished, we packed the
instruments on a little donkey, and Tavekkul and I hurried
on ahead, leaving Said achon and Sidek achon to follow
slowly after with the donkey. “ Follow the main caravan
track,*’ was the last thing I shouted to them. We were about
six miles from camp, and we went full steam ahead.

In the camp I immediately ordered a lantern to be hung up
and a fire lighted, so that the two who were following after
should have no difficulty in finding their way, and this was
done. It grew dark and no one came. We took it for granted
that they had decided to spend the night by the source of the
stream which flowed past our camp.

Morning came, it grew to twelve o’clock, and still we ^id
not see a soul. By then I had become seriously uneasy and
sent men out to search for them, but without result. In the
evening the atmosphere was low. We had wretched pasturage,
and our stores of maize were dwindling. We had not brought
large supplies with us this time, as we did when we travelled
through (he same district a year before.

Another great bonfiie was lighted in the evening, and
another lantern suspended from a. tall pole. That night snow
f^L In the nuM’nit^ Tavekkul and the new caravan ?>asl4
Ohplam Ali» took die two best horses, some, maiae, breads

HOMEWARD BOUND

*85

meat, tea, a cooking pan and sleeping things, and rode ofF in
search. They were my best bloodhounds, and were confident
they would find the wanderers. They returned at eleven
o’clock the next evening, triumphant but angry. They had
found the two sinners six miles away to the south-west.

The evening we left them, they had followed the caravan
track all right until suddenly they caught sight of a fire, and
little Sidek cried out delightedly: “ There is the camp !” But
Said achon thought not. “ It is sure to be a will-o’-the-wisp, a
fallen star or some other devilry. We had better go in the
opposite direction.” So they went in the opposite direction, for
Said achon had a beard and was consequently a wise man, much
wiser than the bright little Sidek. They wandered till mid-
night, encamped without food or fire by a stream, and discussed
the situation. “ The best thing will be to go to Ladak.” That
was twelve days’ march away.

They walked till evening, and again encamped without
fire, though with water and tolerable pasturage. But by now
their strength was at an end. After a fresh consultation, they
agreed that their hour had come. Allah so wished it, praised
and glorified be his holy name, his will be done. They
bathed and washed themselves carefully, and prepared to die.
But at midday the next day Tavekkul and Gholam Ali arrived,
and routed them ruthlessly out. Even they both thought
that it was unpardonably, clownishly stupid and rated them
soundly, but gave them food and tea. Late that evening we
had them back in camp again.

It is a horrible feeling when someone is missing and you
know that if he does not find his way back to the caravan,
he is lost beyond hope. We had lost many animals, but so far
no human beings, and we escaped this time too.

The rest of the journey passed off successfully, and we had
no other misfortunes. Our last difficult bit was on the 4th
August: the crossing of a pass, on the other side of which the
rivers drained towards the Indus. I had' never been so high

XARAVAM

ti6

before. The atmospheric pressure was about fourteen inches,
less than half what we have at home, the height was something
over 19,500 feet. In spite of the altitude, I found a little
flower up there, Ermama Hima/ayeHsis, perhaps the highest
flowering plant ever found.

On the 9th August we passed Marsimik-la and built an im-
posing oio, our farewell to the mountains. That was the end
of the topographical work. After that we were in known
parts, and I concentrated my attention on the herbarium. I
should have liked to make a gravity determination in the
neighbourhood of Panggong-tso, but my eyes had begun to
give me trouble again. I had suffered from trachoma ever
since 1928, and the recent intensive theodolite work had
increased the inflammation. So we made straight for Leh
and civilization.

It was a year and a half since I had had any letters, since
1 last saw a newspaper. Bishop Peter of Leh thought I should
be glad of letters, the sooner the better, and sent me a bundle
by messenger. I met the man just as we reached the Indus.
He had to lead my horse by the bridle while I read. I was
seeing one of the mightiest rivers of the world for the first
time, but I did not notice it.

Bishop Peter and his wife looked after me in the same
charming way as they had done for so many other travellers.
The British Joint G>mmissioner, Captain Ryan, and his wife
received me with the pleasant, courteous friendliness which is
the special characteristic of their nation.

It was two and a half years since I had last seen a telegraph
station. There was one at Ak-su, but when I tried to send a
telegram home from there, the official in charge kindly but
firmly rejected such a ridiculous proposal. " For,” he explained,
** to begin with I have no idea how much it would cost, and in
any case the line is not wcnrking just now.”

Hie journey from Leh to Srinagar in Kashmir was glorious,
as was the time I spent in Leh before we started. All the tiaui

HOMEWARD BOUND

187

one kept meeting people, new and charming people, and as
I wrote in my diary, “ I am terribly talkative

I was welcomed in Srinagar by a Danish friend. Bent
Friis-Johannsen, who not long before had taken part in the
search for me when I had “ disappeared I stayed in his
pleasant houseboat and had a very happy time. At the house
of the hospitable Colonel Bailey and his wife — ^he was the
British “ Resident ” or Governor — I met Maharajahs with
big diamonds in their ears, and American men and women.
We had a tremendous time. Lady Cozens Hardy, the mother
of Mrs. Bailey, was a warm admirer of Sweden.

I came upon Sir Aurel Stein, in a garden which dated
from the Mogul Emperors, several miles outside the town.
He was living in a superb tent and was deep in his work — as
always, I suspect.

I even caught a glimpse of Mr. Tyndale-Biscoe and his
family. Mr. Biscoe has been a blessing to Kashmir, the land
where “ every prospect pleases, and only man is vile ”. For
almost forty years he has struggled, not without success, to
raise the standards of the moral and physical life of the people.
A forceful, humorous and energetic organizer, a man with
his heart in the right place.

I struck up a pleasant acquaintance with an Indian pro-
fessor of philosophy, and altogether made several friends
among the Indians.

The country was wonderful. The eye was hardly able to
follow and take in so many impressions of life and movement.
For years I had been accustomed to dry deserts and dead rocks.
From the moment we crossed the Zoji-la pass in the Himalayas,
it was as though we had turned a page in a picture book. The
steep hills and sharply cut valleys remained, but everywhere
were covered in^ green. The richly coloured and gloriously
scented vegetation crept right up to the glaciers. Every little
slope was wooded, every scrap of plain cultivated. Houses
and people were everywWe, and water too.

i88

KARAVAN

Srinagar itself lies in a large plain.. The great Jheliim
river winds through the town, thickly dotted with house-
boats, and swift little shikara carry the visitor, reclining com-
fortably in the bottom of his craft under fluttering, cool Kash-
mir shawls, through picturesque canals, and beneath enormous
bridges connecting the difFerent parts of the town. The banks
are often shaded with dark plane trees. Suddenly you come
out on to a wonderful lake, closely carpeted with magnificent
lotus flowers. The horizon is fringed in every direction with
impressive mountain ranges, with here and there a snow-clad
peak.

And in Srinagar I parted from my faithful servant Tomes.
He had risen continuously in rank. He began in Kuruk-tagh
as an ordinary servant, soon he became cook. In Khotan he
was interpreter and meteorologist. In Chang Tang he was
the born hunter, who never shot an antelope mother with
young at her side. During the last phase of the revolution —
when I became an Excellency — ^he became a respected sahib,
although without a beard. When we parted one early morning
— ^it was still twilight and a light mist lay draped over the
canals and rivers — ^it was with a handshake between two
friends.

On the bank of the river where Friis-Johannsen’s house-
boat was moored, stood a powerful open car. The back seat
was full of haversacks; the theodolite, which travelled in my
arms, was waiting on the ground. Everything was ready.
Beside me stood Tomes with an oblong parcel in his hands,
and made a little speech. He said that he had received so
much from me — ^my penknife, my saddle, my boots, all my
stockings and shirts, clothes and hats and much else besides,
in addition to his wages— but, he added, my master has
never received anything from me, and that is not in accord^
ance with the True Teaching."

He had, therefore, tried to find a present for me, and he
held out the little , parcel. It had a piece of red paper on t(^

HOMEWARD BOUND

189

the symbol that it wa^ a gift, and it looked festive and decora-
tive. He raised it in his outstretched hands with a dignified
gesture three times to his forehead in token of respect and
affection, and handed it to me. Inside the parcel were his
own Chinese ceremonial robes, a long blue coat and a black
jacket, both from the time of the Emperors. He had had them
when he went with the embassy to Peiping to fetch the Mongol
prince’s bride. It was a valuable gift, it was given with a good
heart, and remains one of my most treasured relics from my
time in the East.

We went through Rawal Pindi and then by train via
Lahore to Calcutta, where I was given a great reception by
Swedes, and spent some wonderful days with the most interest-
ing and amusing companions. On the loth October I boarded
the Swedish East Asiatic m.s. Delhi, which was to carry me
home. That was the end of the great adventure. My diary
says:

“ We are gliding over a glittering, sunlit sea. Porpoises
are jumping in great circles before the bows, where at even-
tide the foam shines with a magical greenish-white. Flying
fishes lash the crests of the waves. The captain and I have
become marvellous friends. We fix positions by the sun and
the stars, argue mathematics, astronomy and physics, and
play beggar-my-neighbour and chess. Every now and then
I put a favourite record on my gramophone, according to our
moods. Time flies by. The cook knows his job, and I shall be
putting on weight heavily. Yesterday was the first Thursday,
and of course we had peas and pork. The waiter, Kalle — a
Scandian from Vitaby — looked at my portion with horror —
it was a good hearty one — and I could see him writhing
and thinking to himself that I had not picked up civilized
ways yet. At last he said in a warning and informative
whisper ; " There are pancakes and jam to follow.” The sailors
certainly make a good impression. One can see what a pride
th^ take in keeping everything shipshape. They are healthy

190 ' KARAVAN

boys with blue eyes and flaxen hair, and muscles to be proud
of. Astern flutters the blue and yellow flag. We are on
Swedish soil;**

When Norin and I began our journeys in Kuruk-tagh, we
were accompanied to our first camp by two particular friends,
Mr. Ding, the Chinese station secretary, and his charming
wife, Siulien. Whenever he spoke of his wife, he always used
to call her “ The evil thorn Norin and I, who both knew
our Karlgren, preferred to call her “ The gem of price or
“ The ten thousand ounces of gold

They brought us two long boxes, full of delicious cakes.
On the lid of each was a Chinese character-picture in warm
red colours, the characters painted in velvety black with the
elegance which is the hall-mark of the highly educated Chinese.
On Norm’s was written:

11 “

“ May the Palm of Peace shade your path.”

HOMEWARD BOUND

And on mine, the astronomer's:

My thanks to you, my lucky star!

Internet Archive Audio

Featured

Top

Images

Featured

Top

Software

Featured

Top

Texts

Featured

Top

Video

Featured

Top

Mobile Apps

Browser Extensions

Archive-It Subscription

Save Page Now

Full text of "Karavan"

See other formats